Abandoned and Abolished
by shannonaon
Summary: What would have happened if the dark Lord was born in the same year as Lucius Malfoy? What would have happened if Sirius Black was cursed by Dumbledore right from the start... Well? Would Harry Potter exist or would Alexandra Black become the wizarding worlds darker chosen one? A lot of Weasley, Dumbledore and.. well Gryffindors in general... Bashing ;)
1. Three desperate voices

**Heya Frizzy ;) I have finally put up the first chapter of this new fan fiction :D Disclaimer: None of the obvious characters are mine there JK Rowlings :P If they were mine I would be rich... Anyway let's get on to...**

Chapter One: Three Fallen Angels.

The frail figure of a young girl clung to a scrap of fabric that used to form a soft quilt. Her hands shook as she tried to abandon the growing cold. The morning air seeped through the floor boards of the old cupboard, that the girl was lead in. She inhaled a breath through her dehydrated mouth; she felt her pale lips crack under the pressure of breathing. Finally she heard footsteps as her father crossed the basement, his feet tapped through the puddles that sat on the hard ground. She heard the fumbling of keys in his pocket and then the scratching of metal key to metal lock as he opened the cupboard. He dragged her out by her shoulder, his nails pressing into her skin; she bit her tongue to hold in a gasp of pain. He dropped her on the slate steps and hissed into her ear.

"Girl, you better behave today otherwise you're to be locked in here for a month." He threatened, in complete honesty. He had done it before. He would do it again. The girl nodded, not meeting his face, as she agreed.

"Listen to your mother, and brothers and sister. Do your chores and I will consider letting you eat tonight. You owe me every inch of your existence." The girl sat there her gaze fed to the ground. She couldn't look at him. He left as the bruise began to form on her shoulder. She had been in the basement for two days, being let out once to eat and go to the toilet. She sighed as she slipped up the large stone steps.

The hall waited at the top of the stairs, she waited until her eyes had adapted to the light. Then walked to her twin brothers room, her old room, were her normal clothes were kept stuffed in an old box, under her old bed. She quietly pulled a pair of woolly tights, dark red. And a small white shirt, over the top of that she pulled on a pine green knitted dress with tiny red dots around the collar. She shoved her dirty rags that she had been wearing into a second box and then slides the boxes back under her bed. Carefully concealed by thick orange sheets. The whole room was now orange. Little white Quiditch players zoomed across the bright orange walls chasing a Quaffle. A white dresser and desk sat in one corner of the room. Orange curtains, orange rugs, orange bed sheets and an orange lamp shade turned the room rather sickly.

Once changed the girl fled from the room. She immediately ran to the kitchen, her feeble bones aching. She groaned at the familiar sight.

A polished wooden table lined with ten chairs sat in the middle of the room. The counter on the far wall was piled with dishes that seemed to be washing themselves, in warm soapy water. The girl went over to the sink and dipped her hands, cut and bruised, into the bubbles, a stinging pain let through her palms, but she managed to scrap the dirt from them. As she relaxed a creak sounded behind her. She turned but it was only that cat, sitting on an armchair on the opposite wall. The clock next to the fireplace that was reduced to an ember had ten hands made from old spoons and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like at school, at work, and lost. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and Cauldron Stews. The old radio on the shelf to the left of the young girl had just magical turned on and was playing the channel, Prophet daily, a version of the daily prophet that played music.

As the girl dried her hands she jumped at the back door as it creaked open. Two boys entered, smiling grimly. The young girl ran up to hug them.

"He let you out?" The children asked each other. The boys looked as though they had been severely beaten; they had bruises on their faces and arms. A few old pieces of fabric hung over their shaken bodies. They had spent the past two days in the shed in the bottom of the garden, hidden by thorn bushes. And locked with a magical unbreakable chain.

The boys dark red hair was clothed with dirt, a weak mischievous glint shown in their eyes. But day by day it was dimming. The boys were underweight with pale skin and a few scattered freckles on their cheeks. The young girl had the same dark red hair, but shoulder length and wavy. Her eyes were a shade of cold blue, hanging with longing. Her name was Grace Weasley. But for a long time she thought her name was girl, as that was what Mr and Mrs Weasley called her.

"Do you want to make the porridge, or set the table, Fred?" Grace asked her brother in a tired voice. Fred gave her a wide eyed stare before quickly shaking his head. "Table, I don't want to go back into th-" he paused. Scared. "Into the shed, if I burn their breakfast." Grace nodded and began to cook a saucepan of porridge; she stared it with a wooden spoon and added a spoonful of brown sugar. Then she put a dozen sausages into a pan with olive oil, after that she cracked half a dozen eggs a fried them in a separate pan. Before turning back to stir the porridge. Meanwhile Fred was laying the table, slicing bread and uttering the pieces heavily. His twin brother George placed a dozen slices of bacon into a dish and put breakfast into the oven, along with mushrooms, onions, and hash browns.

The smell had lured the other members of the Weasley family from their beds. Bill and Charlie came first, they had learnt, long ago, to ignore their siblings. Bill sat down and helped himself to a piece of bread that he spread a strawberry jam over, thickly. His light ginger hair tumbled over his forehead. Bill, who appeared to be thinking, was the oldest at age sixteen and was the definition of popular. At Hogwarts everyone liked him, even some Slytherin's. Mrs Weasley let Bill have raging parties in the garage outside with all his Hogwarts class mates, she noted on him because he was the oldest. But unusually not the heir.

Suddenly Mrs Weasley marched in, her gaze a shooting straight towards the twins who were still in rugged clothes. "Boys, disgusting creatures, get upstairs and dress. How dare you..."

She spat as she through a stinging hex a Georges heals. The twins raced into their bedroom. Grace served the family all the food, giving them full helpings. Although only some of them needed the second helping Grace dished out.

Mrs Weasley was a plump woman, who wore patterned outfits; each one seemed to add a bit more weight to her pear shaped figure. She had squinty eyes and a large nose that made her face seem very wide. Her hair was matted and light ginger. In Graces opinion her mother was unattractive and Ginny, her sister, was no better. As Grace thought of her, Ginny came down stairs. She was a slightly podgy girl, with greasy red hair, that hung above her shoulders. Ginny was the baby of the family, so all the parents doted on her. Yet because of all the attention Ginny got, she was a very spoilt brat. She was extremely girly, and giggled a lot which annoyed most the boys in the house. Grace used to share a room with Ginny, but a year ago Ginny had complained that Grace hurt her with accidental magic and now Grace slept under the twins' bed, when they weren't locked in the shed or basement. She didn't mind, the space was very comfortable because the floor was a mattress, covered in blankets and pillows. Fred and George called it Graces private tent.

Ginny sat down in a chair at the end covered in pillows, so she could see over the table top. A few minutes later Mr Weasley arrived. Mr Weasley sat with a newspaper at the end of the long table. He stared at his Grace with disgust. "Where is my plate?" he asked as he took a quick swig of his coffee. He placed the daily prophet on the table, and Percy, who had followed him down, quickly snatched it.

Grace placed a plate of hot food in front of her father, who grunted then began to eat.

"Dad, what type of dragon do you thinks lives at Gringotts?" asked Charlie, as he pretended his boiled egg was a dragon egg. Charlie was the one brother who ignored the stupid rule about not talking to the twins and Grace. He had even snuck them food a few times. He was the outdoors type and at age fourteen new everything about Dragons. Charlie spent the first eleven years of his life in the garden flying his commit 20, pretending the chicken eggs were dragon eggs and looking after stray animals. He currently owned a bat named Horntail, which uncle Fabian and Gideon bought him. Mr Weasley shrugged, and shoved another spoonful of beans into his mouth. Charlie turned to Bill hopefully.

"Well, the dragon will be big to scare people, but not that dangerous because the goblins have obviously tamed it. Plus it will have to have an extremely long life span. Ring any bells in your obsessed mind?" Charlie suddenly shouted, "A Ukrainian Ironbelly. Thanks Bill," Grace watched her older brother race upstairs, there was a loud screech seconds later followed by Charlie saying, "Sorry Gilbert."

The whole family laughed, even Grace smiled shyly. After a few more minutes of talking, Mr Weasley stood and kissed Mrs Weasley goodbye. "Have a nice day at the office, dear," She mumbled into his shoulder. The family clock switched to Mr Weasley at worked, Grace new he had apperated away. Ron, the youngest Weasley Boy, took the opportunity to annoy Percy now that his father had gone. Grace and Ron practically never got along. Ron was manipulative; he constantly reminded all adults how he was never good at anything compared to his brothers. This is how he got extra presents at Christmas and a joint birthday party with his best friend every year.

"Get off Ron," said Percy gruffly as his little brother tugged on his sleeve. Percy swung his arm away from Ron, but accidentally hit his jaw. Ron burst into tears. "Mummy Percy hit me, he doesn't like me because I'm not old enough to play his grown up games."

Mrs Weasley spun and hissed at Percy, "To your bedroom now Percy, and don't let me hear about this sort of thing again." Percy who was smart enough not to argue dragged himself upstairs. When Mrs Weasley turned around again Bill snuck upstairs as well, probably to cheer up Percy. Ron and Ginny leapt into the living room soon after to play with the mini Quidditch set Ron had got for his birthday. The set was a life like Quidditch stadium, with fourteen players, which included Ron's favourite team the Chudley canons and Ginny's favourite team the Windborne Wasps.

Fred and George came back into the room in jeans and knitted jumpers each with an orange W. Mrs Weasley pulled closer to her, and shook them. "How dare you take so long, bastards, the both of you." she whispered viciously, her cold glare scarring them.

"Your brother's party is tonight and you will not mess it up." She hissed at them. Grace and Ron turned five tomorrow and Ron had asked for an all-night party so they could cheer for him a midnight.

"You can do your usual chores but after five I want you in and dressed ready for the party, if you're not seen people will ask questions. If you dare speak about what happens in this house you're be in the shed for a week." Mrs Weasley promised as she turned towards Grace.

"You girl, will do your regular chores and Percy's. Before going back into your room all night, I refuse to let you ruin Ronnie's party with your jealous ways." Grace nodded and then waited for her to dismiss them. George looked shell shocked, "Why does she have to do Percy's as well?" He asked cautiously.

"Because Fred-" Grace rolled her eyes at the mistake. "George," the twins corrected effortlessly.

"George, your sister and brother are too young to help." Fred looked up, "but Grace is the same age as Ron and she's been doing her jobs for two years almost," protested Fred. Mrs Weasley glared at Grace. "Don't argue, the girl must earn her keep, she's an ungrateful, beast with no manors, I wish she was never born. The little squib." Mrs Weasley growled, Grace burned with pain. _Why didn't they love her?_ "Yes mum." replied the twins, hurt expressions on their faces.

"Good boys, now go. I want everything done before I come back," Ron heard that.

"Where are you going mummy?" he asked sweetly. As he walked over, a struggling member of the Chudley canon team in his chubby fist.

"We're going to see Neville at his house, does that sound fun?" Mrs Weasley said, as she picked Ron up. Suddenly Ginny started to sniffle, "I want to see Holly and Nelly too!" she cried. Grace grunted Holly was Neville Longbottoms younger sister. She was like Ron and she and Grace had never liked each other.

_The first day they met had been one of Graces bad days. She had only just been let out the basement after three days. The girl age three, came up behind her as she was finishing the last of the dishes. Her plain blond hair covered in mud, where she and Ginny had been playing outside. A bucket of dirt was in her palm. Grace didn't see her until the bucket had already been tipped over the plates. "Why did you do that?" Grace asked coldly, before spinning round and facing the girl. Holly shrugged, "You're going to get in trouble now," She laughed. Her high pitched squeals rang in Graces ears. The little girl was thrown out of the kitchen by Graces accidental magic._

"Of course you can come Ginny, you two run upstairs and get your coats." When Mrs Weasley followed the two children upstairs, Grace and the twins ran for the door. Once outside the winters cold bite them. Their feet hit the frosty ground with a crunch. Grace headed straight for the chicken hut. Grace hated chickens, they were loud, stupid and Mr Roster, Ron's first pet, woke everyone up fair to early. But she feed them anyway, and stole their eggs whilst they were pecking at the corn now scattered over the grass. Grace could see Fred and George debate about who was going to distract the family's pig, when the other twin filled up his water trough. Finally Fred gave up and threw himself into the pig pen. Grace watched with a smile. After a few hours all the jobs had been done. Fred, George and Grace fell into the house dragging their feet behind them. They looked at the old work bench covered in family photos but of course none included them. A small note laid there, Mrs Weasley's handwriting read:

_Do not steal any food. The pantry is locked, boys get ready. Girl, stay out of the way._

The three worn out children went upstairs to the twins' bed room. The twins and Grace had the smallest bedroom that they only used for show. The room had a small circular window that overlooked the river. The walls were sky blue with enchanted clouds gliding from one wall to the other. The twin's favourite colour was blue, and nothing any of the adults said would ever change that. A child's favourite colour in wizarding Britain was usually matched to their future house at Hogwarts. A small desk sat in one corner of the room, on it laid four old books: A prankers guide to trouble, Magical jokes and pranks, 100 ways to be a joker, the guide to riddles and mischief. Of course the entire room was for show, the children rarely slept there. It was all an image.

The boys collapsed on the bed and grabbed a towel each from the cupboard flinching at the small dark space that was too similar to the shed outside. Then they left Grace in the room to think. She heard the tap burst on moments later. Grace looked at the painted cloud floating across the sky. She thought about the things she had always thought about, how long would she live? Did they love her? Did she deserve it? These thoughts weren't meant to cross the five year olds mind. But they did, it was the harsh reality of her childhood. She had first realised she was meant to be ignored when, on her third birthday, her father locked her in the basement because she was taking the attention away from Ron. Mr Weasley left her in there for two days until she finally came out starving. The first of many betrayals, she thought bitterly.

The twins came back looking healthy; they were made to take potions. They were already dressed in red robes with a gold F on the back of Fred's and a gold G on the back of Georges, but of course they had swapped outfits for a prank. When Mrs Weasley came back she dragged the boys away.

Grace stayed hidden reading a book of common charms she had found in Bills room. She had been reading since she was three but she had never gone to school, she had spied on Mrs Weasley when she taught her brother Ron at home. Grace was extremely intelligent, she could calculate problems in Muggle math, read books among books of spells, cast most of the spells wandlessly, and controlling her accidental magic. So when she was called a squib, it hurt her.

Grace sat quietly when the friends of the family started to arrive. She heard the high pitch hellos as people fled into the living room. Grace new the list of people that were invited having written the invitations herself.

The Potters. James a famous Aura, his jade chestnut hair and brown eyes rimmed with black glasses. His hair was always ruffled and his mind fixed on Quiditch. He wasn't the tallest man invited but he wasn't the shortest either. Lily Potter was draped over him, the small muggle born with a degree in magical medicine; witch helped seeing as her oldest son was a Quiditch fan. Christopher Potter, the boy who lived, although nothing was ever proven. He had apparently defeated the Dark Lord as a child, the Proof? The Dark Lord was gone and he had a lighting scar on his forehead. Pathetic.

The Longbottoms. Frank was a lesser Aura. His flat hair was dark grey making his jaw stick out. He looked like a tough nut, but one word from his mother and he would sink. Augustus Longbottom a strict lady, who wore a green robe with a dead rabbit handbag. She was vile and everyone knew it. Her daughter in law Alice was the only lady who could make the old hag pleased. Alice Longbottom was a chubby woman who had begun Aura training only to back out when her son was born. Neville Longbottom a cry baby, fourth best mate of Christopher Potter. He was unfit, because he hated flying, the reason why he wasn't best friends with Chris. Suddenly a loud yell sounded from downstairs and Grace sighed, Holly had arrived.

The Lupins arrived next. Remus Lupin was a kind but sickly man. He had lost his wife May, before Christopher had defeated the Dark Lord. She had been very beautiful. Her large golden eyes had been passed on to their son, Tyler. He was Christopher Potter's second best mate. He was shy and a bookworm, but had a striking sense of humour.

The Prewetts were second to last to arrive. Uncle Gideon and Fabian, identical twins. They had dark red hair but not as dark as Fred, George and Graces, and pale grey eyes. Fabian had two baby boys, born this year, called Gale and Flynn. They were adored by Lily Potter who was best friends with their mum, Amanda.

Along with the Prewetts arrived their cousin Adrian. Adrian Crouch was the adopted heir of Bartimus Crouch. He had sour green eyes and limp black hair; there was something off about him. And all the children ignored him.

Last to arrive was the teachers of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, headmaster, McGonagall, head of Gryffindor, and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse. Madam Pomfrey had a girl a year older than Bill called Sandra who was invited and a son, Reuben, Bills best friend, who also turned up.

Professor McGonagall was accompanied with her great nephew Joshua, a Ravenclaw in Charlie's year. Professor McGonagall was a strict woman with a bun in her hair and scarlet robes. She adored Gryffindor's, so basically all the people at the party McGonagall liked.

Grace heard Ron and his friends run up stairs, "Let's play Chaser and bludger," yelled the voice of Chris Potter. Grace snorted, Chaser and bludger was a typical boys game were the one person tried to knock over the others until everyone was out.

"Good idea," agreed Ron, Neville, the twins, Charlie, Joshua and Tyler. "Birthday boy is the first bludger," yelled Joshua before everyone ran to hide. Graces breathe halted, completely soundlessly, when the door creaked open in her room. Joshua had chosen the twins room to hide in, thinking it would be empty. He peered at the pale girl in front of him, stunned.

"Who are you?" He asked quietly, so Ron didn't hear him. He heard footsteps in the floor above. Grace starred at the boy, she had only seen once before.

"Who are you?" He repeated as he crept over, making sure he didn't stand on any creaky floor boards. He sighed in relief when he didn't. Grace trembled as he got closer, but knew she had to answer.

"I'm Grace," she said in a barely audible whisper, Joshua lent closer to hear her.

"Oh, your Ron's twin." He confirmed, Charlie had told him about his sick sister a few times. Apparently it was nothing contagious, but it made her very tired and if she tripped she got bruises easy. Joshua looked at her arms, she must be clumsy, he thought, because she had a lot of bruises.

The girl bent her head and began to mumble, "I have an illness called Quassatum Puer, and you should go."

But Joshua didn't move. Instead he stared at her, "Did you get many birthday presents?" he asked the young girl, before sitting on the bed besides her. She shook her head. And he gave her a sad smile.

"Why don't you come down and grab some cake?" He said softly, try to encourage her. She again shook her head, knowing how much it would upset her father. Suddenly the door burst open and Christopher Potter raced in.

"Found him," he yelled to the others, who all piled into the room as well. Ron sneered at Grace, "Come on Joshua, cake time." the boys all left with confused looks, and Grace wept into her pillow. Waiting for the upcoming punishment, she would get from upsetting Ron.

AAA

The weather on Brook Street was typically English. Rain cascaded against the grey figures of brick houses that sat on either side of the road. Cars sped past, and street lamps illuminated the pathways, as they hummed mechanically.

A small park gleamed in the rain. Tap. Tap. Tap. A rusty swing set, a tin slide and a tunnel which was covered in rude graffiti sat behind a row of small trees. The trees were broken, the lower branches had been snapped by the local children and the trunks had been marked with hearts and names, which no one remembered.

Behind the park stood a picket fence, the paint once white, was now grey and flaking away like dead skin. This fence was the only boundary around Wools orphanage. The orphanage was a cold neglected building. Millions of worn bricks towering up until hitting a dark slate roof. Arched windows hung in rotten frames, above the large front door. The other side of the orphanage only held one window, which over looked a busy main road.

A man hurried down the street, wearing a black rain coat. He ran wildly and clasped an old folder to his chest; silver Mercedes passed him and splattered drain water over his barely visible cream khakis. The man stopped running and looked back at the car pathetically yelling as it drove away. As he turned he saw the figure of a boy stood behind the arched window on the old building opposite. He quickly looked away when the figures dark head faced his direction. He carried on running at the same pace but further from the road. The twitch of a rare smile was caught on the edges of Draven's mouth as he witnessed the small accident from his window. The foolishness of some adults was something he found rather amusing.

Draven was five. Although he didn't act five; Draven never acted like a child at all. Draven had been reading for two years. His head was always stuck in a book; he mostly enjoyed history books about classical Greek and Roman Gods; which he borrowed from the library. Draven could remember everything he read it was one of his many gifts that made him special. When he read Draven would be drawn to the knowledge, only pausing to remove the lose strands of his untameable black hair from in front of his eyes.

Draven's eyes were unnaturally intense emerald orbs, swimming with curiosity. They were the only feature of Draven's that showed emotion. Over the years Draven had perfected his mask; it made the other children in the orphanage frightened. They all thought Draven was horrible, the pale freak that didn't talk. The one that was always watching. The boy that made bad things happen when he was angry.

Of course the local adults and sisters who worked at the orphanage thought Draven was a gem. Beautiful green eyes and lovely dark hair. Very polite and always studying. Never received a grade below excellence in his life. The list went on and on; but remarkably nobody ever wanted to adopt Draven.

Many couples had come to see Draven, and all these couples were nice friendly people who, from a first look over Draven's papers, agreed he was the perfect child. Yet after talking to him alone every one of them changed their minds. It would have affected other children, seeing twelve couples walk out on you, but Draven simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Someone out there understands my gifts."

Draven walked away from the window and sat on his bed. His room was plain and empty; a small wardrobe sat in the left corner, it was square and made from thin wood. The bedside table was piled with books most of them he had to return to the library, but one was Draven's. He picked up a little blue book, with thick pages and small printed righting. The tales of Beedle the Bard was the only object Draven had arrived at the orphanage with. The book was a children's fairy tale book not particularly interesting; except for the messy writing on the front page that Draven treasured:

_To Draven, I'm so sorry I love you, and will come get you, uncle Sev. _

Draven could read the sentence for hours on end, it was his hope. His way of believing someone loved him.

As Draven went through the book, turning the old pages he found his second favourite part. It was a photograph, stuck in the creases of the last page.

In the photograph, was a big black dog asleep on the couch. A little boy with raven black hair and emerald eyes snoring as he lent on the dog.

It was a normal picture, although the photograph was not. The picture moved. When Draven first saw the picture he had loved it, although as he got older he understood his picture was unique. Normal photographs don't move. He told himself, before smiling, _but when had I ever been normal_ he thought.

On the back of the photograph, was another note. This note had neater handwriting and read:

_'My little boy, I love you with all my heart, lily.'_

It would have been the perfect note; however the name lily had been scratched over and replaced with Bella. Bella, the name somehow ring a bell in Draven's mind.

Beth Locks ran upstairs and opened the small oak door and gazed upon the familiar sight. Draven, reading the front page of his little blue book.

Draven although he knew she was there didn't move, he knew she had only appeared to collect him for breakfast.

"Draven, breakfast is ready. Are you going to try and eat something?" She asked.

"Of course Beth, I wouldn't miss your cooking." Draven said, a fake smile appeared on his face. Beth looked convinced and ran out the door her curly brown hair bouncing on her shoulders.

Beth was one of the oldest children at the orphanage. She always looked out for the younger orphans. She was the only person in the orphanage who didn't suspect Draven, or think he was a freak.

Once she had left Draven put his book under his worn blankets, and grabbed an itchy jumper which he slung over his head. He ran a hand through his hair then walked into the hallway.

A few smaller children slid up and down the polished wooden floor in old socks laughing gleefully. A group of older boys started whispering as Draven walked past.

Draven knew the oldest was William Derk; he was a first class bully. Fat body and small facial features, greasy blond hair that stuck to his head. If you asked him a question about school he would grunt stupidly, but if you asked him a question about him he would grin and tell you all about his rich family who were coming to get him some day. He was a liar and Draven hated him. He had started the rumours about Draven, and although Draven enjoyed the respect he got from the others orphans because of the rumours, he hated not having friends his own age.

Although he would die before admitting it, Draven would love a best friend, not loads of little buddies, but a true friend. A friend with the same interests and gifts as Draven but not someone who didn't share their own view. Draven imagined a friend who would be like a brother, annoying at times but someone no matter how hard he tried, Draven couldn't lose.

As Draven walked down the stairs he was knocked into. He grabbed the railing to stop himself from falling down completely, as he heard Williams's piggish voice. "Did you see the freaks face, what's the matter kid too weak to hold yourself up?" William yelled, before the snickering of his friends started.

Draven ignored them, hopping he could retreat to the dinner hall without making a scene. That wasn't going to happen.

William rushed down the stairs and blocked the doorway his arms almost touching each side of the frame.

"Well, freak what you going to do now?" Charlie Benstood, a tall lanky boy that loved to hang around William, asked. Draven stood still; hoping his gift wouldn't start, not today he didn't want the attention. But once again Draven didn't get what he wanted.

It happened very quickly, like a video being fast forwarded. William got bored of waiting for Draven to answer so he lunged at Draven, his big hands out in front of him and his face pinched and red. Charlie caught Draven's arms and held him still. Draven who couldn't move waited for the blow, he waited for the pain, and he waited for the burning in his throat to start as he screamed. But it never came. Very slowly Draven opened his eyes and was shocked to find himself at the top of the stairs looking down at William and Charlie.

It seemed when Draven had vanished, William had pounded into Charlie who had falling on to his back, stuck like a turtle. William was blindly throwing punches as a crowd of children circled the two boys. It was very amusing to watch, and soon the crowd began chanting, "Fight, fight, fight." It was this racket that had drawn Sister Megan, from her porridge. When Draven watched her enter the hall pushing through the children, her face swelled into a rather disgusting shade of plum.

Draven stiffened a laugh. In one movement Sister Megan had both boys by the collars. She pulled them up and Charlie gasped for air. A few children departed as the smells of bacon called them to breakfast; but many, including Draven, stayed to watch the outburst.

"What were you both thinking, how dare you! I will be discussing your long punishment with Sister Claire. Never in my life have I witnessed such foolishness." She screamed, glaring at the both.

William began to panic, "but Sister Draven started it he punched me in the head then ripped out some of my hair then..." William looked around for Draven who was still stood at the top of the stairs. Sister Megan followed his gaze, and scowled.

"I do not remember Draven's arms having the ability to reach from the top of the stairs too where you and young Charlie were rolling on the floor, you horrible little boy." She yelled before pinching Williams's ear, with her sharp fingernails.

"How dare you lie, Draven hasn't committed a sin in his life, have you dear?" Sister said, her voice softened as she addressed him. Draven smiled innocently, but inside he was roaring with laughter.

"Well I always try my best, Sister," he said sweetly. Charlie and William gaped at the him, before giving a look of disgust.

"Sister, honestly he was beating Will when suddenly he just vanished and then appeared at the top of the stairs." Charlie said, William just nodded in agreement.

"How in the world did I vanish and reappear up here?" Draven said before walking down the staircase. The remanding children watched intently as he stopped in front of William.

"I mean, that's impossible unless you're saying I'm like some sort of demon with magic."

William glared at Draven, "you're a freak. You don't belong here like the rest of us." He howled.

Sister Megan had had enough, "I refuse to listen to your lies both of you, Draven hasn't done anything to you, if I have it my way you're be cleaning the dinner hall for a week."

William and Charlie began to complain but sister carried on, "with your toothbrushes." She finished before dragging the boys away.

Draven controlled his fit of laughter as he entered the wide dinner hall, the smell of orange juice trickled up his noise. A grand table stacked with dishes of creamy porridge and plates of French toast was covered by greedy hands. Orphans shouted across the room, their mouths stuffed with chunks of food.

An apple core rolled past Draven, and he skipped over the crusts of toast scattered on the floor. He moved silently towards the kitchen were Beth and Issy her sister were eating pancakes drenched in syrup at a small table.

"Draven we saved you some," Beth said proudly, it was hard saving the pancakes; they always disappeared first, into the mouths of greedy toddlers.

"Thank you, they smell brilliant." Draven said honestly, before collecting a knife and fork from the draw.

"Draven why do you insist on eating with those, it's much more fun to pick it up with your fingers." Issy said before breaking of a bit of her pancake and stuffing it in to her mouth. It was yuck to watch, and Draven was reminded why he didn't like Issy.

"Because, Issy, I don't believe acting like a pig is needed at the table." Draven replied sharply, there was silence for a while, as Issy and Beth sat shocked.

Then Beth coughed, "are you going to the Library today?" She asked Draven, as he slowly ate his food.

Draven shock his head, "no I went yesterday. So there's no point going today." Draven replied his tone now bored. Then Issy spoke again.

"Why do you go to the library so much? I mean you're only five." She said, as she began to lick sugar from her fingers. Draven's insides curdled, the girl was an animal.

"I go to the library, because I like learning, unlike some people." Draven smirked.

"Plus Will never goes there, so it's a place to get away from the idiot."

Beth giggled, but Issy scowled at him.

"He doesn't do anything wrong, you wind him up, so it's your fault," he glared at the girl.

"He's vile and cruel and you're just pathetic." He snarled, his face no longer belonging to a five year olds.

"At least I'm not a freaky disappearing act!" Issy screamed. Beth just sat there glaring at both of them.

Draven stood up, his hair falling over his face. He didn't even bother replying. He just left the silent room.

Draven stood under the door and peered up at the sky. It was still raining but it wasn't as heavy and the clouded seemed to be drifting apart. Draven sat down on the cold stone floor thinking about his mother and father, he must of had parents, he read about how children were born in a book from the library, although only briefly. He thought about who he probably looked like most. In his dreams he remembered three adults; the first was a man with dark brown hair, and an emotionless face, and complexes blue eyes. The second was a woman with beautiful black hair that fell over her face; she smiled softly in his dream and whispered his name. The last was another man his face looked proud and his green eyes stern but comforting and mad black hair like Draven's. This in Draven's head was his first and only family.

AAA

Three men sat in a dimly lit office. The elder of the three was intently pondering over a pile of parchment, tattered and worn, like his eyes. "That is not good enough. Olliphus must be lying-" He said sternly to the other two men. The tone of his voice was sharp with underlying desperation. He rubbed his hand across his dry blonde hair and itched his ear in frustration.

The two other men sighed at their fathers antics. Their empty blue eyes meet one another's as the elder of the two twins pushed his long hair over his shoulders. "This is ridiculous. I honestly believe Olliphus is chanting riddles to a sphinx. Lil, do you agree?" The older twin stated. Lilius ignored him for a while, and instead focussed on the flickering light of the fire.

When he replied it was in a cold tone. "I agree that the half-blood is lying, Lucius. However, as we are yet to decipher what he is specifically lying about his broom still has a tail-"

A loud snort came from the father of the two, "Yes, but his broom is not one I shall chase. Let us remain level headed son, the children will be foun-" Lucius stood up in rage, he was uncharacteristic these days. He circled the room with heavy footsteps and then summoned his glass of whiskey. He drained the glass, he felt the alcohol slither down his front, and he felt his eyes begin to wither from the compressed agony he felt. He turned to face his father and brother.

Lilius Malfoy was sat on the emerald couch his face framed with light brown hair and brilliant blue eyes that years before could stun any witch. They now lay gaunt and emotionless on his face. Abraxas Malfoy, his father, had the same emotionless glare lingering in his eyes. Abraxas was the third wealthiest man in wizarding Britain, his decorated fingers holding the head of House and the recognition of a Wizgmont Seat rings gleamed proudly underneath his robe sleeve that was embodied with diamonds. Even in the unimpressive company of his two sons Abraxas was a flaunter of gold.

A quite tap at the door made all three of the men quickly glance at the large mantel clock. The time was exactly ten minutes to eight at night, Lebenth and Draconian where extremely talented at arriving precisely at the correct times.

Lucius and Lilius called enter and with a small brush of his wand the large oak doors separating the hall from the office opened wide.

Two young boys stood in the gloomy doorway. The taller of the two, Lebenth Malfoy, was wearing a perfectly fitted pair of night robes decorated with silver and black stripes. Lebenth stood with profound pride and a lasting innocence held with in his muscled figure. At age seven Lebenth was the only son and heir of Lilius and Rilndą Malfoy: hair of soft blond, eyes of frosted steel, pale skin, intimidating stance and lonely childhood.

The previous description was also present in Draconian Malfoy who was believed to be the identical frame of his older cousin. Due to their fathers impeccably timed and demanding routine the cousins only contact with their fathers appeared late in the evening before they went to sleep. The family tradition of sharing meals together had slowly disintegrated as the search for Lebenth's missing cousins begin to control their fathers' lives.

As the innocent Draconian ran across the room to wish his father goodnight he tripped over the night gown he was wearing and fell onto his father's legs. Draconian, however, ignored the fall and grinned up at his father in a guiltless manner. Lucius frowned with frustration as the heir to the house of Malfoy collapsed into his legs. He hoisted the young boy onto his feet with his right hand and scolded him with his left.

"Draconian. Please do not run if you are incapable of steadily remaining on your feet." Lucius told the five year old child. The grin fading from his pale face as he nodded. Lucius took notice of the boy for a simple second: His posture was unkept, his hair was a ridiculous length, his way of presentation was foolish and his eyes were- "Are you crying?" Lucius spat harshly as his embarrassment began to reflect in his voice. His son was not meant to cry it was just not done.

Abraxas ignored the parenting tactics of his son towards his grandson and concentrated on praising Lebenth who had recently challenged himself to begging his Potions training on his own. Being a skilled Potions Master himself Abraxas agreed that his oldest grandson was quite remarkable at gathering the concepts of the art. Although he needed practise.

"Do not become a failure. I will not accept an unintelligent boy in this family." Abraxas remarked as he patted his grandson on the head. Lebenth forced away his smile, "Of course grandfather, I would not dare disappoint my father, uncle Lucius or you by neglecting my studies." Lebenth stated. His grandfather laughed fondly.

"I know, I know. My boy you will be great, just like your father and Uncle."

A sudden yell came from Lucius as the hair of his son became a violent red. "What has happened? Draconian stop this foolishness at once-"

Draconian remained puzzled as his one blond hair became red. He smiled, "I can do magic! Daddy!" The little boy squealed as Abraxas and Lilius turned to look at him. Abraxas frowned. "That's the Black blood from his mothers' side showing in him." Abraxas and Lucius shared a look of displeasure.

Malfoy heirs where meant to show the dominant traits of a Malfoy, not Blacks, Crabbs, Greengrasses, and especially blood traitor qualities where meant to be presented in the heir of the family.

Draconian smiled softly at his grandfather. "Mummy can do this?" He questioned as he innocently pointed to his hair.

Abraxas scowled again, "No, but her blood traitor sister can and so can her blood traitor cousin. You best hope you do not follow in their example." Draconian once again felt the smile weaken on his lips. His grandfather stood, looming over him like a spear before patting his shoulder and stalking past him down the hall.

Lucius watched his father leave and then turned back to his son. "Draconian, you must keep your hair a normal colour. Do you understand?" Draconian paused before nodding solemnly. "Yes, Dad- Father." Draconian said before he and Lebenth retraced Abraxas shadow down the hall.

Draconian felt a tear drift down his cheek as his cousin slid an arm around his shoulder. "I am sure grandfather didn't mean what he said, Drake." Lebenth said with an encouraging smile. Draconian whimpered, "I bet he did." Lebenth watched as his cousin wiped his face dry with his sleeve.

"I bet your wrong, I bet Uncle Luke and grandfather are jealous and that-" But Draconian could tell that his cousin was lying.

"Thanks for the support, Leb. But I'm just not growing up according to their plan. I can't even get daddy- I mean father, to look at me with a smile anymore." There was an agonising loneliness present in the boys' words as he spoke. Lebenth smiled sadly, "There notice you one day Drake. When you do something great. Then there have to notice you."


	2. Remember, Release and Regret

**Heya Frizzy and Tracey :D How you doing? ;) So my small number of readers.. I'm sorry for not posting sooner but there was a rabid pig!**

**Readers:….**

**And I tried to post but he ate my work and and….**

**Readers:….**

**Yeah okay never mind -.-**

Chapter two: Remember, Reveal and Regret

The frost had hit, an icy coat covering everything, devouring life. A cold plague. It was a week until Walpurgisnacht day, the famous European holiday on the first of May when witches and wizards celebrated the first of spring.  
More and more young wizards had begun to tease muggles with exploding parcels, biting letter boxes, and boiling rain. Not to mention that moving puddle which zigzagged across the roads and in front of muggle vehicles making them crash.  
All in all Mr Weasley had come home furious every day, but today he had been invited to a small work party, then he came home. Drunk. Grace, Fred and George never saw the clock change Mr Weasley's spoon to home, nor did they hear the back door slowly creak open as they washed, rinsed and dried the dishes. What they did hear was the horrible voice of their father as he grabbed the twin's shoulders.  
"You're the reason. You're the reason I have no money, I am a pureblood and I'm weak. I hate you; we should have never, ever got you." Mr Weasley whispered heatedly into Fred's ear, before raising a drunken hand and slapping him across the face. A tear shed down the brave twins face as he whimpered in pain. A large red handprint slowly turning to bluish-purple on his cheek.  
Mr Weasley saw Grace run for the door and locked it with a quick charm to stop her escaping. Then he cast a silencing spell, he knew Molly wouldn't come down stairs she was to obedient, but he was worried about the boys, Charlie and Bill. Those two childish idiots would surely tell if they were to see. Grace crawled under the table hiding from her father. This always happened at to them. To her, Fred and George. Although Fred and George never remembered it, by the time it was morning the twins would be completely oblivious to the past nights terrors. For a long time Grace thought she was just having nightmares about her father. It wasn't until the night before Ron's party that she woke up when her father was about to Oblivate the twins.  
She was too late to stop him, and too weak to tell them about it and what their father did to them. She never knew why the memory charm didn't work on her. George was yelling for help, squealing like an animal, as Mr Weasley struck him again with his belt. George tried to shield the unconscious and bleeding body of his twin as the belt smacked his thigh. The buckle leaving red imprints on his skin.  
Fred whimpered in curdled pain on the floor. His head was heavily bleeding from a cut above his left eye that he must have got when his head hit the stone kitchen floor. Grace watched the scene as behind her the tap that was still turned on, began to overflow. The hot murky water washed over the side of the sink and began to flood the floor. As Grace watched from under the table she felt the sudden pickle of hot water wash against her leg. She yelped and looked behind her. The water was pouring across the floor. The stone floor gleamed as the plates in the sink began to rise from the flow of water. A crash suddenly sounded as a plate fell over the sink and onto the floor. Grace, ignoring the yells of her brother, ran across the room. The hot water splashed and hit her skin; she began to wince as the water ran down her leg. Her skin raw from constant beatings.  
Suddenly a sharp scream exploded from Fred. The flow of water had hit his bleeding figure. The scream made Grace turn violently in shock. She slipped on the floor. With a sharp intake of air she fell into the water. She screamed burning water hit her pale skin and she screamed in a unbecoming angry.  
But with forced frustration Grace grabbed the edge of the counter. Hot water poured over her skin but she managed to pull herself up. Leaning over the counter Grace finally turned off the tap and drained the sink, plunging her hands into the water for a final time. The magic in the kitchen managed to suck all of the leaked water down the drain as well. Leaving Fred, Grace and the floor completely dry. Except for a red stain of blood that was now resting on Fred's shoulder.  
"Daddy, please. Dad it hurts." Yelled George as Mr Weasley bent Georges arm back and around his back. CRACK. George screamed in an uncontrollable beat as his arm was snapped in half. The bone connection his elbow to his wrist was poking against his pale skin in an attempt to break through and tear his muscle.  
Mr Weasley began to panic. Finally he had gone too far. "Daddy, I want mum." Grace said softly as she walked up behind Mr Weasley and tugged on his jumper. Mr Weasley was panicky. He lunged at the children with his wand and with a harsh blow of his wand sent them all into a rush of darkness.  
_Shit_, he thought as he levitated them into the basement and slammed the heavy door. Locking it on his way to his room. With a final glance at the roof as he lead in his bed, he thought, _I'm going to be rich again when the Girls Gringotts vault has passed to Dumbledore. He said he would give us half of the contents of the vault and their must be thousands of Gallons in it. It was her father's fault we weren't given the gold in the first place. When she's dead and gone, and the boys are finally and permanently oblivated; then I will have power enough to murder those that tormented me in school because of my family name. I will murder all those pureblood bastards starting with the last of Potters stupid little group.  
_

AAA

It was the 23rd of April. The April showers were beating the floor. Draven couldn't remember how long he had been sat on the step, outside the kitchen door. But he knew that no one would destroy his thoughts here, because it was covered by a thick wall of black berry bushes. Which Sister Megan planted years ago to stop the children from sneaking into the kitchen and tearing apart the cupboards filled with treats.

Draven could hear the children running around indoors, causing havoc and laughing as they played games like hide and seek. He could see the cars through the bushes and an old man cycling past. He was completely relaxed, which is why the sudden scream shocked him. He stood up, and looked around expecting to see a little child, but there was no one. Draven inhaled the misty air. Someone had defiantly screamed.

"-_Stupid hatchling cannot see my pain_.-" said a hushed voice, which startled Draven. He looked around, a small branch in the bush twitched. Draven took a closer peek and saw an icy blue snake caught in the thorns of the branch. Draven extended his hand, towards the bleeding creature.

"-_I shall bite you! Hatchling_,-" snarled the snake, causing Draven to jump back. He could hear the snake, the words, and the language. Draven wondered if the snake could understand him, back.

"- _Do you need help?_-" asked Draven politely, manors always won friends.

The snake turned gleefully, "-_oh, a speaker! I am sorry young master_,-" The snake hissed excitedly, his scales glistened like snow on his back.

His black eyes fixed on Draven, as Draven carefully knelt beside the bush. "-_I will free you, ice scales, from this painful cage_.-"

Draven didn't wait for a replied; he just carefully released the snake, who hissed deeply in relief.

"- _I am forever grateful, master of speakers_-" he said. Draven shifted uncomfortably, since when was he a master.

"-_Please, I am no master, I am just an orphan_.-" hissed Draven truthfully, as the snake slithered in front of him.

"-_Draven is my name, what is yours little snake_-"

"-_My names, humble orphan Draven_-" The snake said, "-_you are wishing to know my names?_-"

"-_Yes, if that's okay,_-" said Draven suddenly wondering if he had offended the little creature.

The snakes head tilted down and his body coiled, he looked like he was thinking.

"-_My names Draven is unknown to me_,-" replied the snake sadly, Draven stood still, a feeling of guilt washed over him. He was now cold from the small shower of rain that had now started, he was also hungry he had lost track of time. The smells of ham drifted through the doorway that was slightly open.

Draven inhaled, and his stomach growled. The snakes' tiny forked tongue twitched and his eyes narrowed.

"-_ham, eat it. Eat it, hungry_-" the snake breathed before slithering under Draven towards the kitchen door.

"-_Wait ice scale'_s!-" Draven begged, he didn't want the beautiful reptile to get caught in the kitchen. Beth and Issy would scream and Sister Megan would run in with her broom. Draven new this because of last year when a stray dog had wondered in at dinner; utter chaos had erupted.

"-_orphan Draven is there danger. The humans do they hurt?_-" whispered the snake, cautiously. Draven thought of William and Charlie.

"-_Yes they hurt, evil children_.-" growled Draven, a venomous spit curled in his mind. Sometimes he couldn't control his anger towards people and he did things. It was part of his gift. He could make things move without touching them; Annabelle's snow globe didn't fall off her shelf on its own, the day after she broke Draven's trainers. He could make things appear in front of him; James twenty pounds he got for Christmas hadn't flown from his pocket into Draven's hand, by its self, the following day James had pushed Draven down the stairs. Draven could also get into people's heads. Draven couldn't control the other gifts; they only happened when he was scared or angry, but Draven could get into any bodies mind at any time.

It was this particular gift that Draven scared the adults with, the ones that came to adopt him. He could always hear them: "I thought he would be bigger, he looks smart, what a stupid name, I wonder if he plays football, beautiful eyes, cute little kid, I wonder if he likes dogs, will he get along with Danny... All of them the same. Judging him, testing him, almost like buying clothes in a shop looking to see if he fit. So he answered them. Yes he knew it was cruel, but one day when someone accepted what he could do, Draven would leave the orphanage far behind.

Draven picked up the little snake. Its small body was smooth, Draven stroked the snake gently. A soft hiss told Draven the snake didn't mind, "- _wrap yourself around my wrist, under my sleeves_-"Draven whispered.

The snake obeyed as Draven walked silently through the door.

Beth and Katy, a younger blond girl, were making piles of sandwiches for lunch. The smell of ham, salad and fresh bread infused the kitchen, Draven inhaled. Draven could see their hands, scraping butter into the bread, and cutting up tomatoes, lettuce and ham. Ham. A huge leg of ham hung from the pantry ceiling, swinging gently.

Draven's face became still, as did his body. Stone still. His breathing stopped. Then he imagined the ham from the insides of the sandwiches falling into his pockets. The slight movement and new weight confirmed he had done it. The snake hissed softly as the smell hit him, '- _your magic is gold, young master you are powerful_-'

Magic, the sudden explanation hit Draven so hard he nearly fell back. Magic is what he could do. It was such a simple answer, and slightly farfetched, but it was right. What other children could do what he could do, none that he had met.

Gold magic was that a type of magic? Draven would have to ask the snake once they were in Draven's room, safe from little children and annoying teenagers.

As Draven crept through the kitchen, he past Beth who looked at him with a pathetic apologetic smile. "You okay, Draven?" She asked.

Draven nodded, he could feel the snake curling tightly around his wrist. Beth smiled and pulled Draven into a hug, Draven stood emotionless, the hugs were a reassurance to the younger orphans, nothing more.

When Beth pulled away she had a lot of annoyance over her face.

"Draven, you're soaked to the bone! You haven't been outside in this have you?"

Draven shifted uncomfortable, then nodded.

"Draven, upstairs now, I'll send you up some dry clothes." Draven smiled at the easy escape. He ran out the kitchen nearly slipping on the polished floor. The children had all retreated into the bathrooms to wash before the lunch bell. Draven could heat the scampering of feet and small whines as water and soap attack the grimy hands of the other orphans. Draven passed the bathroom a trail of water behind him as it dropped from his damp clothes, then up the staircase and into his room. Although small the familiar sight was a huge comfort.

Draven pushed his sleeve up and released the small blue snake. The snake slithered into the bed and pulled at the itchy covers, entwining the threads. "-_Don't do that-!_" Draven said he could almost feel himself hissing.

It felt nice, slow and soft like something trickling off the top of his tongue.

As soon as the snake stopped Draven began to smile, he was talking to a snake and the snake was talking back. Although it would be much better if he had a name that Draven could use. Draven thought he gazed upon the snake who hissed at the admiration. He had a silky long body and a pale blue glow, and in detail small black lines twisting around him, like thread.

Draven beamed, "-_I have a name for you if you want it?-_" Draven questioned.

The snake took a moment before looking up, "-_young master wants to gives me a name? Is it a good name_?-" the snake flicked out its forked tongue. He's probably thinking of the ham thought Draven.

"Well, if you tell me what you think of the name you can have the ham." Draven said, the snake shifted uncomfortable glaring at Draven.

"-_You was speaking in human tongue.-_"hissed the snake impatiently.

"-_ I am sorry, I said if you tell me what you think of the names you may have some ham.-_" Hissed Draven slowly making sure he kept in his snake voice.

The snake nodded his small head in reply; Draven shifted thinking if the snake would like the name. "-_Well, the name is Blackwater_,-" Draven whispered unsure of his choice. In his mind it suited the snake as his black markings looked like little black waves on a blue ocean.

The snake nodded considerately, '-_my name is Blackwater,-_' he hissed softly.

Draven remembering his promise took the ham from his pocket and started nibbling on an edge, tearing parts off for Blackwater.

After they had eaten, Blackwater curled up in Draven's pillow case and fell asleep. Leaving Draven alone, to wonder about what Blackwater had said in the garden...

Magic.

Draven always knew he was different, but not just because of his gifts. Draven had dreams about very odd and particular things.

In his dreams, Draven saw his family, two men and a beautiful woman; but there was another dream, a dream Draven never mentioned. He saw an old man with horrible twinkling blue eyes, along with a red headed woman with vibrant, green eyes. They looked down at him muttering and the old man made cold red lights sting Draven's body, this used to make Draven wake suddenly in the night screaming. But now it was the second part of the dream, the red headed woman was holding him and shaking him, "it's your fault, and we should have never taken you." Draven's dream ended when a blue light hit him. This is when he woke up screaming his whole body burning.

He would tell himself it was only a dream, but it always seemed so real.

Draven heard a small tap at the door, and Draven jumped from his thoughts.

Draven shifted from his bed and opened the door to reveal Beth, who was holding some new clothes.

"I got these from Gordon, they should fit you." She said smiling. She put the clothes on his bed then, turned to face him.

"Draven don't go outside again, alright?" Draven began to smirk, "don't want me to get wet again?" He asked sarcastically.

"You're not taking me seriously." She scowled.

"It's just a bit of rain,"

"No it's not the rain I'm talking about, Williams out looking for you." The fear in her eyes shone. And Draven new she had finally admitted it to herself, the fact that Draven was different.

"Speak." Draven commanded the older girl, who sat there looking at him.

"I should have realised it earlier, you're not like us. The things you can do, there not normal Draven." She said. Draven tensed.

"Normal, define normal." Draven spat, as Beth slowly moved away.

"Normal, is acting like a child not an adult, normal, is not knowing everything, normal, and is not disappearing like a..." She finally believed the others, "freak."

Most children would have cried but Draven just winced slightly as the icy feeling travelled through him.

"Get out." he ordered.

"No Draven I'm sorry I didn't mean it." She cried, Draven didn't listened he wanted her to know what it felt like to be alone.

So he looked into her eyes, and fell into her mind. He sieved through her thoughts.

Her mind was like bubbles, memories all floating around, first day of school, riding a bike, meeting Draven, watching a movie with her friends, laughing with her friend's parents. All the happy memories were floating at the top of her mind.

Draven spotted a dark cluster of bubbles at the bottom of her mind. He reached for them, getting left at the orphanage, being bullied at school, falling into the schools pond... That's right. Draven thought as he pulled the memory out of the bubble, so Beth remembered the day she nearly drowned.

After Draven felt serge of panic, he dropped out of Beth's mind leaving her to remember the day at the pond.

She yelled for a bit, thrashing her arms Draven found it very amusing.

Then, once the memory faded she stared at Draven in horror, as he smirked.

"Leave," he said, she didn't need telling again.

Draven thought he would feel guilt as she left but there was nothing, no emotion.

Draven in anger glared at the pile of books in the room, until... Bang. The whole pile fell to the wooden floor. He stood up, glaring at them. Remembering the exact contents of each one, he knew it wasn't normal but it made him powerful; it have him an advantage over all the other children. Power was everything.

Blackwater had said he was powerful. He said Draven had gold magic whatever that meant.

Draven lade on his bed, in the warm, his clothes still damp.

He taped Blackwater gently, and then watched as the beautiful snake wound around his hand.

"- _Yes Draven_,-" Blackwater hissed, like the air going out of a tire.

"-_Tell me about magic_-" said Draven softly as he stroked Blackwater's back.

"-_You have powerful magic Draven, when you turn eleven years you will get a letter to Hogwarts, the magic school._-" began Blackwater.

"-_Tell me more about Hogwarts_.-" said Draven, who was extremely interested.

"-_All I know is that great master Slytherin serpent speaker came from there, he was a very powerful wizard the only wizard to have black magic, although Merlin had white_.-" Blackwater said.

"-White magic?-" questioned Draven, his soft voice felt pure in his throat.

"-_I can see a glow around you, gold magic. Those with no magic have a soft blue glow, squib have purples, and weak wizards have red or orange, good wizards have yellow, powerful wizards have gold and the most powerful have white or Black_.-" hissed Blackwater, Draven beamed at him.

"-_Thank you, Blackwater_.-" Draven hissed before rolling around and covering himself with the thin blanket. Blackwater hissed a soft "-_sleep well_,-" before searching the room.

Draven was Left to think about his parents, like every orphan does when their confused or sad.

He was thought about his parents and what Blackwater had said; he had guessed that there was a sea of knowledge about wizards out there somewhere, one that he wanted to find. As he lay there thinking, he accidentally fell to sleep, dreaming silently.

The next morning bought a frost. The whole street was covered in a beautiful soft gleam. Cars speed past showering the payments in a spray of water. Men in plain suits slid as they hurried into their cars. Waiting for their cars to heat up, as they scraped the ice from their windows with their sleeves.

AAA

Draconian Malfoy and his older cousin where sat at the dining room table at breakfast. It was exactly a week before the Malfoy Walpurgisnacht ball and so the adults where hectic as they slandered the house elves as the creatures contently worked to prepare the house.

Narcissa, Draconian's mother, had demanded that the boys where to retreat to the upper wing of the house that had already been cleaned. Narcissa was the younger of the black sisters by nine months, she was her father's little girl and because of that she had become devoted to her son like her father had to her.

Draconian was the light in her life when five years ago she had seen nothing but an overpowering gloom. Now she saw her son: the Malfoy heir, a beacon of intellect and the proper pure-blooded son to Lucius even though he failed to see it himself.

Narcissa had left her son and nephew in the dining room eating a delicious breakfast of ham and cheese croissants that she had made that morning. Both boys where extremely polite when eating despite their age. In general, actually, both of them where as polite as an adult, Lebenth was perhaps older but her little dragon was two years younger, something his father and grandfather usually forgot.

When Narcissa re-entered the dining room at quarter to eight to escort the boys to their lessons she saw them in a frustrating game of wizard's chess. Narcissa smiled softly as she watched Draconian take two of his older brothers pieces in a swift movement. Lebenth, now without a queen and bishop, had only two pawns and his king. She watched as Lebenth gave an impatient glare at the dimly lit bored.

He was losing. He was about to lose a game of chess to a five year old who still had his queen, both rooks, both bishops and a pawn. He was fed up with this game but he hid his feelings and said boastfully, "I see check in three; and you, younger cousin?" Draconian smirked as he raised his hand and tapped his king on its crown.

"I see checkmate in one depending on your move. Which will hopefully take place in a matter of seconds." Lebenth snarled. He roughly placed a hand on his king and began to move his piece to the left before spotting the position of Draconian's queen that was directly waiting for Lebenth to drop his piece. He tried to put it back but Draconian said, "Tut Tut cousin, please refrain from cheating." Lebenth began to become flustered but then saw the 'no' gesture his aunt was giving him from the doorway.

With a heavy sigh, Lebenth placed his piece on the board as Draco called, "Queen to B4," Lebenth watched as his king sat stranded and was soon beheaded. Draconian laughed gleefully.

"I beat yo- I mean, well played Leb." Draconian said with a small smile forming on his face. Lebenth handed Draconian his hand and they shock politely. Lebenth smiled at his cousins enthusiasm.

"Come on Drake, Aunt Narcissa is waiting-" before Lebenth could finish his sentence Draconian spun around to see his mum smiling down at him. Her blond hair framing her pale face and her blue-grey eyes sparklingly intently as she took his shoulder.

"An exciting match, Draconian," His mother stated kindly as she lead him and Lebenth out of the room. Draconian let his lips twitch into a grin, "You think so?" HE asked as Narcissa nodded.

"Yes my son and I am sure your tutor will love to hear of it as soon as you get into to class." Draconian pulled the hint from her sentence and with one last smile nodded and walked briskly down the hall with his cousin towards his tutor's room.

Thomas Hiddles Senior was the most famous pureblood tutor in the wizarding world, and therefore the most expensive to hire. He was the tutor of Lebenth and Draco who had a son of age six who occasionally came with him to the manor. He was a young man with aging strawberry blond hair and warm eyes rimed with pare square glasses. He mostly wore brown robes when he tutored and Draconian had come accustom to the man's poor taste in fashion.

Draconian and Lebenth calmly entered their tutors office which was laid out as a small classroom. In this class five times a week from eight thirty till twelve the boys were taught the theory of basic charms and transfiguration along with the history of pureblood families. Lebenth was obviously learning higher theory work however Draconian had a talent for history and worked at the same level as his cousin.

The boys sat at their desk and quietly waited for professor Hiddles, taking out their quills and parchment in the meantime. Draconian had recently been given a beautiful peacock quill form his cousin as he had broken Draconian's last set of Raven feathered quills.

As the door in front of the cousins opened to reveal the professor they called in union, "Good morning Professor Hiddles." The man smiled and placed his pile of books he had been levitating on the desk. "Good morning boys, how was your breakfast?" Lebenth smiled, "Quite nice, we had croissants." Their professor smiled and replied, "Cela ne sonne bien. J'ai moi-même eu un petit déjeuner anglais complet en compagnie de vos pères ». Nous parlions de votre dernier enseignement de la littérature à vous préparer pour les nombreux essais que vous écrirez à l'école." Lebenth and Draconian smiled, they had completed their lessons on the French language last term. Both boys were now fluent in all European Languages.

"Why where you discussing are knew subjects, Professor?" Asked Draconian, the professor smiled at the young heir. "Well, as your tutor I take it as my duty to assist you and Lebenth in your academic studies Draco. And I believe you and Lebenth are ready to leave the subject of Charms theory and begin a harder subject."

Both boys took difficulty in hiding their smiles. "Anyway, that will not be until next week for now let us carry on with your history and mine. Please get out your new books,"

Draco hurried to remove his book from his desk that had a draw in the side to store his books and parchment. He was paced with a slight run back to his desk and placed the large book on top of his parchment. The cover was jet black and in silver scrawl the title appeared letter by letter: The Sacred Thirty-One.  
Draco, once the writing had fully appeared, took a moment to smirk at Lebenth. Lebenth smirked back then the boys opened the book to the first page. When their tutor watched both boys focus on the first page he began to read, "The Sacred Thirty-One written by Cantankerus Nott," He paused here to make sure the boys were listening.  
On seeing their fixated stares he continued, "With in this novel contains a dictionary of those, whom in my eyes, have the purest of blood. Purebloods. The finished result of this novel has presented itself as a dictionary of Thirty-One names that deserve recognition and praise because of their pure magical heritage. This means that through months of careful research I have discovered which families are worthy and which are not. There are no blood traitors, half-bloods, or Mudbloods recognised in my work. For it is they who shall be our downfall." Professor Hiddles paused here; he turned to the boys, his face stern. "I trust that you boys will not judge your friends after this topic-" Lebenth laughed in a high pitched tone that made the room drop in temperature.  
"Are you suggesting we befriend the unworthy, professor?" Professor Hiddles sighed, "Obviously not. However I am suggesting that you and Draco depend on your associates by your own judge not by the biased words of a young wizard who wanted to create an imprint on his society." Lebenth bowed his head in shame and nodded as his professor carried on.  
"The Thirty-One families comprised of: Abbott, Avery, Black, Boles, Burke, Carrow, Corrux, Crouch, Flint, Gaunt Greengrass, Griffith, Grim, Hiddles, LeRoy, Lestrange, Longbottom, Malfoy, Nott, Ollivander, Potter, Prewett, Queens, Rosier, Rouge, Rowle, Selwyn, Slughorn, Stone, Travers, Weasley-" "WEASLEY?" Lebenth raced into uproar. "You want us to befriend a Weasley?" Lebenth stood up, face burning with rage as he through his ink across the floor. "No, Lebenth. Please be seated-" The professor answered calmly as he vanished the ink with his wand.  
"But you said-" Began Draco as he too stood from his chair. "I said do not judge your friends. Have you ever met a Weasel?" The boys looked at him agape, "No sir," They answered. "Do you plan to befriend one?" Professor Hiddles inquired. "No sir," was again the reply. "Then how did my previous statement apply to one?" Both boys looked with shame at the teacher before sitting down. "It did not apply to the Weasley's as I said. I am sorry for disrupting the lesson sir." Lebenth mumbled as Draco nodded. Professor Hiddles nodded and tapped the book with his wand. "Good, know please turn to page three," Lebenth and Draco turned the page.

Professor Hiddles smiled then began to read: 

"The Black family traces its origin back to the time in which wizards where fist found present in Europe, the times of ancient Rome. The Black family has entirely magical ancestry, the pure-blood families like the Blacks have simply removed Muggles and Squibs from their family trees, this is proven and therefore the claim of having untainted blood remains as truth.

The first known ancestor of the Black family was the unnamed wizard who lived under the alias of 'Hades Black'. The pureblood wizard posed as a Greek god and ruled over many, belittling the minds of muggles with his necromancy. The wizard ruled for many years until his alias was passed on to his son; and thus the Black line began.

Many other historical achievements (Muggle and Wizarding) imprinted the Black family such as their ruling over Britain when Dominous Black fell into the analysis of Henry Tudor (Henry 8th) and ended all other Muggle lines of royalty by murdering their daughters. This lead to Black family becoming known as a royal family in the wizarding world, and being named as 'Lord' or "Ladies" of our humble society.

The Blacks place a great importance on blood purity. The family motto, written on the family crest, is _Toujours Pur_, which means "Always Pure" in French.

The Blacks are commonly described as "extremely handsome or beautiful". They are considered to be beautiful people, being tall, thin and having attractive features. The traditional look for most of the Black family is black hair and dark eyes with some exceptions, such as Alphard Black who had red hair or Orion Black I who had blond hair and blue eyes. (This lead to the court case involving the poor boys parentage. A significant rivalry between the Malfoys and Blacks that has newly been resolved.) They possess a certain aristocratic elegance that reflects upon their personality.

The Black family is the wealthiest Wizarding family. Their two vaults in England Gringotts number 711 and number 3 are described as a treasury of gold. Their wealth is to be envied by all. The 600 family houses and 200 house elves (Public knowledge may be limited) is only an example of their power.

Let us, audience of this chapter, understand that when the Black family is infuriated there is no mercy."

When Professor Hiddles looked up from reading he spotted the two struggling hands in the air. He smirked, "Yes Draco?" Professor Hiddles asked as the young heir grinned in satisfaction. "Are the Black Family richer than us still, sir?" Professor Hiddles smiled. "Yes they are Draco; it would take a thousand years to match the wealth of the Blacks. Lebenth?" Lebenth smiled as Draco pondered the answer and asked, "Is the Black family still powerful sir? I rarely hear of father talking about them?" Professor Hiddles answered with a practised tongue; he knew that the young boy was not meant to discover some truths. "Yes, the family's heir Regulus Black, your Aunts cousin, is currently working as a silent counsellor for the English Wizgmont. He is trying to redeem the power of our pure-blooded ways. As for the head of the family, Lord Orion, he recently suffered a great loss and has not made an appearance for many years however his wife Walburga-"He said this with a sneer in his voice, "-is currently residing in France with her cousin. Doing nothing on either matter."

Lebenth saw the anger in his tours eyes and quickly changed the topic. "What about the Malfoy family sir?" He suggested with a smirk.

Both cousins rapidly read the chapter on their. Snorting at the text in some places and grinning at others.

"The Malfoy family are a pure-blooded wizarding family whose French ancestry is well known throughout the wizarding society. The Malfoy family although denied by most members come from a line of squibs that till this day is still unnamed.

The Malfoy name was given to the family in the first generation and therefoe the name of the squib line was lost. The name _Malfoy_ is derived from the French "mal foi," meaning "badly (or in this case, bad) faith" or "unfaithful". In law, "bad faith" refers to a case in which a malicious motive on the part of a party in a lawsuit undermines their case. This would be relevant to the general cruel natures displayed by some members of the house. In existentialism, "bad faith" is a philosophical concept in which people blame their own failures on external factors, thus denying responsibility for their actions. Also, this most likely refers to the Malfoys' famous tendency to switch their loyalties to avoid danger or punishment, rather than steadfastly supporting their presented views.

Many historical achievements (Wizarding) have been noticed by society in compliment to the Malfoy family such as their short rule over France when the family posed as the **House of Valois** from 1328 to 1589. Another achievement of the Malfoy family was their strategist advice that assisted in many wizarding and muggle battles including the naval battle: The Spanish Armada. This is a significant battle as the Malfoy family assisted the Black family's heir Elizabeth Tudor in this battle.

The family crest pays homage to Salazar Slytherin, bearing the colours black, green and silver, as well as images of several serpentine creatures. The Latin words "Sanctimonia Vincet Semper" appears inscribed on a silver banner, meaning "Purity Will Always Conquer".

The aristocratic features of the Malfoy family are traditional. Blond hair and steal blue eyes. It is unlikely to ever have a Malfoy heir without this description and therefore it has become a signature look that many wizards and witches find tremendously attractive.

The Malfoy family is the third wealthiest Wizarding family. Their vault in England Gringotts number, number 12, is described as fountains of silver upon emeralds. Their wealth is to be envied by many. The 327 family houses and 50 house elves (Public knowledge may be limited) is only an example of their rising wealth.

Let us, audience of this chapter, be warned that the Malfoy have a honored tradition: They are Slytherin through and through."

They boys read the last sentence out loud and together. No matter what neglect Draco suffered he was proud to be a Malfoy.

**I was going to stop here but… extra information is needed for the next chapter….**

Gloom lay thick across the tired walls of Malfoy manor. A hungry wind bit the windows, they quivered. Looming above the oak doors was a window engraved with a pearly glow. Lilius Malfoys private study had little light. A cold ember sunk into ash in the fireplace and a single candle perched on the craved desk. Lilius sighed as he fixed his gaze onto a grandfather clock, which stood like a lonely man, in the corner. The time was quarter to eleven. Lilius impatiently diverted his cold stare towards the ring in his hand, a deep haunting blue stone stuck in between two twisted silver branches. Detailed silver leaves waved on an invisible wind around the stone. The Ravenclaw Lords ring had been passed through to his squib biological father, shortly before Lilius had murdered him. How would have guessed the great and intelligent Ravenclaw line producing a long generation of squibs.

Lilius who, quite proudly, was the heir to two Hogwarts founders wore the rings, much to Lucius's envy.

Lucius was Lilius's brother. Even though it was through adoption they were and always would be brothers.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was Lilius's name before Lord Abraxas Malfoy had adopted him.

Lilius only referred to himself as Tom to claim his vaults at Gringots and to pass on his heritage to his son.

He had been told about his true parentage just before he started Hogwarts:

_The two heirs of the Malfoy house were sat at the bay window in their double chambers. Four of their close cousins circled them as they battled in an intense game of wizards chess. The light illuminated their stern faces through the window pain. It was a cold day in December, and the boys were steadily becoming impatient as the wait for Christmas drew closer. _

_Lucius brushed his shoulder-length hair out of his eyes as he called, "Knight C5," with a trumpet smirk plastered across his cheeks. He was a strategist, even at the age of seven. He was the champion chess player among the six and not surprisingly the wittiest. It was, of course, a Malfoy trait. _

_Lilius was watching his queen become black rumble with shocking purple eyes. Different, from the usual Malfoy traditional look but the same proud emotion still lurked between them, even as a child. He turned to face his cousin Sirius Black. _

_Sirius was the heir of the Black family. Enough said. He was a prodigy of magic, at six he had mastered the first grade classes that they would teach at Hogwarts. He was now on grade three. His black hair was tied with a silver ribbon, his grey eyes were surveying the match, and his trademark grin was falling across his elfish face. _

"_Lucius, if mistakes were magic you would be a muggle. I honestly can not see a way to win this match Lil. Surrender now and do so proudly." Sirius said as he raised his palms and fell back into his chair. Lucius smirked again as Lilius sighed. _

"_One day I will beat you brother, but until then I agree with Siri, good game." Lilius swooped across the room and took the seat next to his closest friend. Sirius grinned and moved closer to him. _

_Lucius turned to face them all. Rodolphus and Rabastan, the LeStrange twins, were sat opposite him. The twins were identical; with brown curls and signature green eyes. They were talking, in Spanish, about Hogwarts. Ever since their older cousin Neil had been sorted into Slytherin, School had suddenly become a much loved topic between the children. _

_The last of the group was Morgan Flint he was good friends with all of the children however if you asked the adults the favoured pairs were: Lilius and Sirius, Lucius and Rodolphus and Rabastan and Morgan. _

_It was nearing lunch when the fire place sounded in the hallway and the voice of Lord Abraxas Malfoy boomed a welcome. Sirius looked down at his watch. "I doubt it is any of our fathers as they are also invited for dinner." The others nodded in agreement as Abraxas entered the room. A heavily clocked stranger stood in silence behind him. _

"_Lucius, son, could you please escort your guests down stairs? I need a word with your brother alone." Lucius nodded, knowing not to disagree with his father, he led the others, except Sirius, out. Abraxas motioned for Sirius to leave but he lazily shock his head. "Sirius can stay, father, he can be trusted with my life let alone a family secret." Lilius said with a short wink. His father sighed, "Well if you're sure son." He said in a voice almost regretful. He then patted his son on the shoulders sent a glare towards the Black heir and left. Leaving the stranger in the room. A tense silence caused Sirius to stand and draw his wand. He growled at the man, low and dog like, before Lilius also stood up. They turned on the man whose face was covered. Slowly Sirius said, "By order of the House of Black I demand you sit on the chair-" He gestured to a old wooden one he transfigured from a pillow on the floor, "-Take off your clock, apologise for your poor lack of an introduction and show us your wand." Sirius wasn't playing. He felt threatened by the very stance of the man who was now walking towards the chair. _

_Carefully the man did what he had been told. When the man removed his hood Sirius became wide-eyed. Nicholas Flamel sat in Lilius's chambers his face white and frowning. _

"_Do not rely on your name boy. I doubt very many care of a Black haired boy with wealthy robes especially when his arrogance seems to be his only shield." Sirius nodded and stood back into a bow, Lilius did the same. Both boys were slightly annoyed, Sirius had shown his skill of magic very professionally and non-threatenly through his transfiguration. He had warned without actually warning. _

_But both boys were purebloods and had manors. They apologised, offered Nicholas drinks and then after the usually protocol sat down opposite the half-blood. _

_With a sigh Lilius was first to talk as the silence was awkward. Usually their guest would have had tea and the slurping of a drink would have made the tenseness vanish but the eccentric man had declined any drinks saying he only drank his own wine and ate his own food. _

_Nicholas starred at the boys with a soft expression that was slightly off. His white eyes rimmed with a red line looked almost painful. _

"_Are you blind?" Asked Sirius with little concern of the mans health at all. The mans gaze shifted towards Sirius's mouth. "I am, Master Black." Was the reply. Lilius gaped at the man, "But you created the elixir of life. How can you be blind?" _

_Nicholas smiled softly, the kid was smart. "Well Master Malfoy, to have an elixir of life the elixir must be given a form of life to generate from. A powerful source, it seems I did not give it a powerful enough source and now it has began to rot my senses. My taste first, then my smell, and now my sight." Both boys shuddered at the coldness in the mans voice._

"_The matter of which brings upon us why I am here. I have denied you, Lilius, your sense of belonging." Both boys shuddered again before asking, "Pardon?"_

"_Let me explain, I once knew a man named Roel Salazar Slytherin-" "-The grandson of-" "-Do not interrupt me Black!" Sirius fell silent and Lilius looked back at the man suddenly extremely interested in his words. "As i said, I once knew Roel. He and I were as brothers before he died and I lived on with my elixir. As both of you probably know after a few more centuries the last of the Slytherin line was murdered and thoughts that lived changed their names to Gaunt. I knew of them. Heard lies and truths. Heard the family was brutal and blood thirsty. But also heard of a light. Merope Gaunt, the daughter. She-" _

"_Fell in love with a muggle and had a bastard at the age of fifty because her first child died. She oblivated her muggle husband endued with love potions had a second child in the year of my birth and both the child and Merope disappeared. We know, my father gives me that lecture almost every day, love a muggle means love a life as one."_

_Lilius grinned and Sirius as he once again interrupted, and laughed at his impression of his father. Nicholas frowned. "Be silent boy." He whispered as he then said. "I was chosen to protect the line by Roel as his brother that is why we created the elixir. And to make sure the same family who murdered the last of the Slytherin line didn't murder the only heir I took him from Merope and hid him with a pureblood family who gave him a knew and caring home." Sirius snorted, "That's some storey." He said choosing not to believe what his mind was yelling at him. But hen again why else would the man be telling Lil._

"_That's right, Black. The bastard child as you so valiantly named is sitting at your side."_

_"I don't believe you," said Lilius, suddenly. His eyes blazed as he stood up. "Tell the truth!" He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. Sirius stood up and moved towards the corner of the room. The voice his best friend used was a command, more deadly than his. He was glaring at Nicholas, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Lilius stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything scared. _

_"Who are you?" _

_"I have told you. My name is Nicholas, my child." Nicholas paused when Lilius leapt from the bed and backed away from Nicholas, looking heartbroken. _

"_No, I remember you? You're the man from the ball; you told father how much you wanted to take me away. Well I don't want to go! I refuse; my brother is here I won't leave him. "Sirius growled in agreement as he protectively stood in front of Lil.. _

_Nicholas was impressed; Lilius had only been a small boy of three when that conversation had occurred._

_"I am not here to take you away, Lilius; I'm here to explain some family complications. And your inheritance." said Nicholas patiently. "As I have explained, I met your mother before you were born and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about her." _

_Lilius snorted, "My mothers in the kitchen downstairs if I want to know about her, I can go down myself and ask what ever I please." Nicholas gave the boy a saddened glance that unfortunately Lilius caught._

"_What?" He questioned. _

"_I want to tell you about your biological mother and father, but if you don't want to listen nobody will force you —" _

_"I'd like to see them try," sneered Lilius, who had not yet understood the information inside Nicholas's statement. Unfortunately Sirius had and was now holding a rather desperate expression on his face. Nicholas reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a photograph he managed to get from the Riddle house hold, and another he took of Merope just before she died. He handed them to Lilius who starred at the blankly. Nicholas didn't expect him to remember._

_"Merope Gaunt and Thomas Riddle. A pure blood witch and a squib. Heirs of Ravenclaw and Slytherin."_

"_Pathetic squib. "Both boys said in turn._

_Nicholas went on, as though he had not heard Lilius's last words, "Your father and your mother —" _

"_Are down stairs!" _

_"Your mother and father are the people in those photographs, whether you believe me or not nothing will ever change that." Sirius started to shake._

_There was silence. Lilius had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Nicholas's, as though trying to catch one of them lying. _

_"My mother and father?" he repeated in a whisper. _

_"That's right," said Nicholas. _

_"But...but does that mean Lucius isn't my brother, did father lie?" Lilius looked heartbroken, and Nicholas addressed him._

_"Lucius is still your brother for as long as you want him to be, your blood adopted made that happen and Lucius loves you. Your father is my very good friend and took you in when I couldn't? I also can guess as young Black has remained in the room after me explaining that you are not a pureblood, he does not care either." Sirius nodded in agreement, "You can't get rid of me, Lil." The boys laughed. _

"_Where is my mother," breathed Lilius. A flush of anger was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. _

"_She's dead, and your father is living-"_

"_I DIDN'T ASK ABOUT THE SQUIB!" Lilius bellowed. His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer. _

_"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "Tell me about her... I don't believe you! But tell me anyway." Nicholas smiled._

"_I honestly don't know much about them, but I know your true name is Tom and your mother looked like your sister does."_

"_I have a sister?"_

"_Yes" said Nicholas, who was no longer smiling, but watching Lilius intently. "My adopted daughter Maria." _

_Lilius lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it. _

"_She wants to meet you Tom," Nicholas said._

_Lilius and Sirius gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly. _

"_My name is Lilius," He stated coldly._

_"You dislike the name 'Tom'?" _

_"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Lilius Sirius nodded, "Muggles name." He stated. Then, as though Lilius could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Can she speak to snakes. Lucius can't, father says it's my gift— they find me, they whisper to me."_

_Nicolas could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress. "Parselmagic as you know is descended from Lord Slytherin" said Nicolas, after a moment's hesitation, "but no, she cannot speak Parseltounge." _

_His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Lilius's face. Roel had told him many years ago that only his true heirs could speak to snakes. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other. _

Lilius remembered it to well, fifteen years had passed from that day, and he was now twenty two.

There was a quite knock. Lilius smiled, ten to eleven; his son was a perfectionist at arriving precisely when he was meant to.

"Father?" The innocent voice of a child said. Lilius chuckled breathlessly, "Son?" He teased.

"May I enter?" The heavy oak door began to open.

"You may," Lilius replied to his son. He heard the light footsteps cross the room.

As he saw his son walk across the room, he realised he had an almost perfect reality.


	3. Frightened, Found and Falling Fast

**Hey guys! Chapter three is up! Sorry its late been busy with exams :P**

Lebenth was deep in his studies. As Draco was on his first practical lesson with his father and uncle, Lebenth had been left to study. Though, instead he was currently reading an unnamed book from the darker corridor of the library. 'Gaelic Blood Magik' was the title of the heavily bound book. The pages were rigidly craved of skin, _perhaps muggles?_ The writing was obviously blood and the cover was thatched hair. Lebenth was beginning the third chapter: Infant Torture. Lebenth heard a door open in the library and flinched in fright. The adrenaline of reading a dark book and not studying was ripping him open as was the horror of the information inside the book.  
He decided quickly to put the book back. He reached up and began to slide the book into the shelf- "Shit." He yelped as a hand fell onto his shoulder. He dropped the book and spun around.  
Tom Hiddles Jr was stood, almost in laughter. His thin mouth was pressed so he would not laugh. Lebenth snarled put the book back and then turned to Tom. "I will get you back for that." Lebenth threatened as he began to stalk off. Tom followed him, his blond hair bouncing as he walked. His sea mist eyes sparked with mischievous.  
Tom was a rebellious boy with the manors of a gentleman. _A terrible combination_. What's worse, he was an only child extremely smart and almost as rich as the Malfoys.  
Lebenth knew Tom through their lessons spent together. However that did not mean he regarded the boy as a friend. "What are you doing here?" Lebenth spat as Tom snorted.  
"I was bored, fathers at home and I thought I could studies with Draco-"  
Lebenth was furious. "Draco is not here, and for Merlin's sake, you cannot just walk into this house!" Lebenth hissed as Tom grinned, "I practically live here." He commented, because of his father it was true, Tom had spent much of his childhood at the manner.

"Yes but this is-"

"The Dark Lords house? Lord Voldemort's dungeon? The lair of the snake?" Tom offered with an innocent pause before each sentence. Lebenth stared harshly at Tom. "You lack respect Hiddles." Lebenth spat as Tom called, "Sticks and Stones."  
Lebenth growled as Tom looked down at his shoes, "Anyway-" He began, "I'm leaving tomorrow. And I wanted to say goodbye to Draco." Tom said, the last sentence drowned into a mumble. "What are you talking about?" Lebenth snapped.

Tom smiled, "I'm going to Griffith Academy of rising Magical Arts." Lebenth stopped walking and turned to face the six year old. "But that's in Ireland?" He said, _the kid was annoying, at best, but Lebenth still would miss him. _

Tom nodded, "Apparently the Headmaster has given me a scholarship." Tom smirked. Lebenth nodded. "Well done, I guess." Lebenth said as Tom flinched at the sound of an opening door and fled into the library.  
Moments later Lucius Malfoy entered the room. "Lebenth, come. Your father wants you at his side." Lucius said in a harsh tone. Lebenth flinched, "Uncle what's wrong?" He asked as he ran after Lucius's long strides. At the door Lucius turned and said, "Your cousin is missing." Lebenth couldn't breathe. As Lucius took the hand of his nephew his mind fled back to his son. As Lebenth walked he cast a glamour over his face: Red eyes and White hair now rested in the younger version of Lilius Malfoy.  
Both Malfoys walked into the throne room of the Dark Lord moments later. The cavern was a ghastly room, with a stained floor and limbs of recent victims hanging on the walls. A slim table, black thorn wood, sat directly in the centre of the room. Ten of the Dark Lords second section of Death Eaters, known as Tyrants, sat in a specific order around the table.  
Each of the Tyrants had masks but Lebenth still new their names. Nott, Carrow, Carrow, Dolohov, Mulciber, Travers, Queens, Grim, Avery, and LeStrange. The group was male except Alecto Carrow a mad march, in Lebenth's opinion.

Each of the Tyrants had taken the blood vow not to release the Dark Lords Plans and secrets; therefore (and because of his glamour) Lebenth did not have to mask his face in their presence. Although Lucius choose too. The group bowed nervously as Lebenth sat by his father's side.  
Lebenth had been attending meetings with the Tyrants for two years. The introduction of the Dark Lords heir had annihilated the suspicions of a fallen cause if the Dark Lord died. The Tyrants had each taken an oath of loyalty to Lebenth except the asshole that was currently sat opposite Lebenth. The Tyrant gave an exaggerated bow then removed his mask, meeting Lebenth with a contagious grin.  
Marcus LeStrange was the youngest of the LeStrange family. He was currently the heir to the house as his older brothers were in Azkaban. Lebenth shock his head mockingly as Marcus ruffled his trademark sandy blonde hair, he was the only LeStrange to have blonde hair and warm hazel eyes, taking after his mother's Avery blood. An honorary older brother to Lebenth.

The men all looked around at the Dark Lord. A crimson flare inhabited the two slits in the Dark Lords mask. Lebenth had become accustom to his father's glamor after so many years of watching him swap identities and, Lebenth thought in a small voice, characteristics.

The Dark Lord gazed around the room as the meeting began. With an evil sneer present on his face, he sent a silent, "crucio," At his step brother. Lucius sent a blood curdling scream around the room that was quickly joined by Marcus's. Lebenth watched with a mask of indifference, one that he had grown after so many years.

When the Dark Lords plans went wrong not even family was innocent. A lesson Lebenth had quickly learnt. Lebenth broke from his thoughts when a cold snarl echoed around the room.

"What happened?" Was the only sentence the Dark Lord could muster in his anger.

AAA

The next morning bought a frost. The whole street was covered in a beautiful soft gleam. Cars speed past showering the payments in a spray of water. Men in plain suits slid as they hurried into their cars. Waiting for their cars to heat up, as they scraped the ice from their windows with their sleeves.

Draven woke up early, around six. He woke up screaming as a fiery, stinging pain flared through his body. His hands were clammy, as he rubbed his eye; which was bleeding. Damn, he thought as he rubbed his face.

Although every bit of his body was in agony, Draven managed to pull himself out of bed and into the bathroom down the hall.

The boy's bathroom was a complete mess, cracked mirrors and broken tiles.

It was dirty and it disgusted Draven. He walked around trying to find the 'nice' sink, the last sink with an unbroken mirror.

Draven filled the basin with cold water, and then splashed it over his face. Cold, refreshing water washed away the dried blood on his forehead. He saw the red swirling through the water.

He looked at the mirror. Draven saw a small boy, with messy jet black hair, and intimidating green eyes. He also saw blood trickling down his face from his left eye that was heavily wounded. He had always had problems with his eye, a slit in the corner of his pupil, prickling every time he thought of that damn old man. The one with stupid blue eyes.

Suddenly outside in the hall Draven heard a voice. Recognising it, Draven ran into the nearby cubicle. Locking the door, silently breathing, shivering slightly.

"Wait Charlie; wait till I get my hands on the little shit! I'm honestly going to kill him." Spat Will as he barged into the bathroom, Charlie following closely behind him, scurrying through. Wills aggressive voice echoed around, Draven heard him turn on a tap and splash his face.

Watching through a crack, Draven saw Charlie and Will talking, and getting closer to where Draven's blood still lay splattered near the sink.

"What's that," grunted Charlie, as he dimly lifted his hand and pointed to the blood.

"Blood, you idiot. Some ones been bleeding, I think." Will said, Draven sniffled a laugh. _How stupid can you get?_

"Hey, it's still wet. You don't think some ones in here do you?" said Charlie, as he turned to face Will.

Will nodded, "We didn't pass any one on our way in."

Draven swallowed, his body still hurt. He didn't need Will to find him, he would kill him.

Slowly Draven opened the cubicle door. The heavy frame swung on a lone bolt, and as Draven opened it, the whole door crashed to the ground.

Draven didn't know if it was the bang of the door that shocked him or the fact Will was staring at him from the other side of the room. But whatever it was the shock made him freeze, completely immobilized. _Damn,_ Draven thought, _come on run_, his mind screamed. But his legs wouldn't move.

"It's you, you bloody freak, and I'm going to rip you to pieces." Will yelled as he ran at Draven.

Draven's hands were out in front of him as he waited for the blow. Then suddenly, SMACK.

William through Draven back into the cubicle. Were he collided with the wall, he couldn't think as the pain took over. He felt to big hands grab his leg and pull him over the fallen door. Then another hand grabbed his arm, nails dug into his skin. The two boys through Draven into one of the sinks, the fragile basin, broke from the impact and sharp pieces of China cut Draven's face. He heard Will walk through the rubble, where he kicked Draven in the stomach.

Draven couldn't breathe, let alone reply as Will crouched beside him and whispered, "Not so perfect now, are you freak?"

Then Draven felt his world sink into darkness.

When Draven woke up, he was still on the bathroom floor. Water from the broken sink flowing round him. He could feel pain in every part of his body, again. Slowly Draven managed to stand up. His right leg was okay but his left leg was covered in dry blood. His foot looked and felt completely broken as did his right wrist. He slowly made his way over to a mirror were he badly recognised his reflection. His eye was covered in dry blood and so was his cheek, thanks to a deep cut. He had two black eyes, which made him look dead along with his pale complexion. His hair was wet from the water on the floor but it was also matted with his blood and dirt.

He looked out the window, and saw the sun. He spat, it was practically lunch. He had been unconscious for nearly 6 hours. He stomach rumbled, and he thought, _nobody could be bothered to help me for six hours, how pathetic and week did I look lying there. _

Draven moved steadily, dragging his foot along the floor. He thankfully didn't see anyone as he paced himself down the corridor, he finally made it to his room. He locked the door. He collapsed on his bed.

Saying Draven was in pain was like saying some children liked Christmas, a complete understatement. Draven was copying with the agony, because the driving hatred he felt towards the ordinary, non-magical brats in the orphanage had overcome his pain, till now.

As Draven tried to move his foot, he gasped to mask a scream. The same thing happened with his hand, and Draven was finding it hard to breath.

He managed to turn into his right side and face the window; he looked at the road opposite. Cars sped past, a red one, a black one, another black one, a dark green one. Draven watched the busy street become calmer and calmer.

The light flickered, in Draven's room, with a mechanical tune above Draven, and really started to annoy him.

As Draven glanced out the window his head began to spin, he could swear he saw four men appear out of the air. Just like... Magic. Draven gasped, was his mind playing tricks on him or had four wizards just appeared outside the orphanage. Draven leaned closer to the window, his body rippling with pain.

Four men and a boy.

The smallest man had a lean body, and jet black hair which was cut snugly around his head and spiked. His clothes fitted him almost perfectly, and seemed to be made of black silk; the cuffs and collar were embodied with silver swirls. Draven guessed the man was no older than twenty and the boy looked around the same age as Draven himself.

He had platinum blond hair. He stood cold and alone. Parted from the elder blond like a

The two other men however looked at least twenty five; they both wore dark green cloaks, which covered black trousers. One of the men had long blond hair, which sat behind his shoulders, this man was related to the boy, Draven thought. The man held a beautiful carved cane, with a silver handle. The other man had scruffy light brown hair, the same type of hair Draven's was.

The older men seemed to be studying the house in front of them, ferociously. The blond man said something to the boy who nodded, and then he drew a long black stick from his cane.

AAA

Draco was out. Finally, his father had taken him on a simple raid. It was the day before the Malfoy ball and Draco's uncle had instructed Lucius to take Draco on a raid as part of his training. This was Draco's chance to prove he was worthy of the title heir to the house of Malfoy and not some unappreciative spoilt brat compared to his cousin.

Draco stared at the large muggle house his father had apperated in front of. A small looming building compared to Malfoy manor, with an ugly brick wall facing the garden patched with stones. A polished deep blue muggle cart stood outside, Draco briefly remembered his tutor calling it a car. He grimaced at the brutality of the vehicle.

A hand slithered over Draco's shoulder. His first cousin once removed, Marcus LeStrange, bent down by Draco. "Its fine, all you have to do is watch and then report the tactics used to the Dark Lord tonight." Marcus said in a comforting tone his young cousin. Draco nodded in reply.

He liked Marcus, although at times he could be extremely annoying. He was the youngest of his family and was bought up with far too much freedom. He did not need to be betrothed or set an example to anyone, as he wasn't the heir. But he was still rich, flawlessly handsome and brightly intelligent. He had two young sons called Orion and Nikolas.

Both boys were a year above Draco. The boys were home-schooled by their grandfather Raluen LeStrange, head of the LeStrange house and their great uncle Flynn Prewett, head of the Prewett house. Draco smirked at the thought of his cousins. Orion and Nikolas were mental, complete outcasts of the normal Pureblood ways. Obsessed with muggle contraptions and never portraying the correct traditional manner when out and about. _Probably why he was never allowed to see them_, thought Draco sourly. He cast a short glare at the floor.  
"Marcus, Lucifer take the back." Lucius commanded as Marcus stood up and grinned. "This should be fun." Marcus whispered as he drew a long thin wand made form Birch. The two men paced around the house and Draco felt his father's hand take his.

"Stay close, don't you dare disobey me at any time." Lucius warned as father and son walked into the house.  
Draco, when entering the house, couldn't decide whether he was cold from nerves or from the presence of blue walls that now surrounded him. He recorded the assignment his uncle Lilius had given them as goose bumps appeared on his skin:

_"Kill the women, find the boy test his parentage. If he belongs to the muggles kill him. If not bring him to us." His uncle paused. "Draconian, you find the boy. As you too are young he'll seem less threatened. Perform the parentage charm, if it's your cousin-", his uncle knelt down, a longing in his eyes "-bring him home."_

Draco felt his father's hand leave his as his own fell at his side. "Draco get your wand out," Draco nodded.  
A family tradition meant Draco possessed a family wand until the age of seven. The wand belonged to Nicholas Malfoy, a violent wizard who murdered many muggles in his prime. Draco twirled the pointed Blackthorn wand, it was also violent. He hated the touch of its harsh wood but his father's word was law, and his father had commanded its use.  
Lucius began to walk towards the stair case with stealthy feet. He motioned Draco to follow. The stair case was long and steep. Both Malfoys snuck to the second floor of the house. An empty corridor was present, Draco as he grew up in Malfoy Manor had never been bothered by dingy corridors, but as Lucifer appeared behind him he flinched a little. "The woman is with Marcus in the kitchen. What are your orders, master Lucius?" Lucifer asked as he dipped his head into a short bow. Lucius smirked, "Stay with my son, as I join Marcus in intimidating the filth. Do not disobey him." Lucifer bowed again in agreement and submission.  
Lucius then walked away. Draco fought the urge to run after him. He held his stealthy stance and nodded to Lucifer. The man followed Draco as he began checking rooms down the corridor. Each time Draco opened a door he felt a sudden terror at the thought of being caught in a Death Eater raid.  
Finally he reached a large white door with a colourful plastic sign reading, "Daniel," in blue and green capitals. Draco carefully turned the handle on the door.  
Draco cast, "Lumos." The sudden light illuminated the room. The white bed had dinosaur sheets that where rose like a tent. Beneath them the faint figure of a boy sat silently. As Draco checked the room for moment he saw many drawings, done in crayons, of a three figures. A mother, father and son. Some of the pictures were scattered on the floor and somewhere framed on the teal walls.  
Lucifer nudged Draco as he stood in the doorway. "Hurry the fuck up, kid." Lucifer snarled, knowing that his harsh voice would make Draco complete the mission faster, the kid was brilliant under pressure. Draco crept closer to the bed. He told Lucifer to stay by the door with an impression of his father's snarl on his face. The kid, Daniel, whispered, "Mummy?" Draco cringed. And through a look at Lucifer when he sighed, "Shut up." Draco told him as Lucifer smirked, "Yes little master."  
Draco placed his hand on the sheets and carefully pulled the covers off the boy. He was met by a pair of terrified diluted pupils. Draco tried to smile as the boy wearing red dragon-print pyjamas covered his face. "What are you doing?" Draco asked calmly. The little boy mumbled the reply, "Daddy's says if I can't see monsters, they can't see me back." Draco frowned at the illogical advice, "That's stupid." The little boy shook his head.  
Draco seeing the little boy was distracted from his wand cast the parental charm on the boy. He heard Lucifer's muffled laughter as a soft blue glow appeared around the boy. He was a muggle.  
Draco desperately wanted to leave the boy but he couldn't. His father and uncle wanted the family dead, including the boy. Draco suddenly heard the light snap of men apperating. He nervously approached the boys' window, but Lucifer pushed him out the way, he opened the blinds and snarled as he recognised the Aurors uniforms outside on the street. He turned to grab Draco but he quickly retreated, unintentionally shielding the muggle boy.  
Lucifer snarled at the action, "Draco move." He spat as he raised his wand, he heard Lucius and Marcus yelling below them. Draco shook his head, "No." He demanded as he too rose his wand, "I will complete your father's orders Draco-" Lucifer began; Draco held his ground as the boy behind them began to scream. "Mummy-"  
"Shut up." Lucifer yelled as he became nervous. Draco still held his ground, "Father said to not disobey me. Do not hurt the boy." Draco screamed as Lucifer fell to his knee. "I'm sorry little master, what are your decisions?" Draco smiled inwardly, "Get us out." Draco told him.  
Lucifer was about to reach for Draco when the shape of Marcus's Protronus charm, appeared in the hall. "Aurors are here, we had to get out. Get home with Draco." The golden retriever repeated the panicked message as Lucifer attempted to apperate. "Fuck." He cursed as he was blocked by the wards.  
A sudden explosion rocked the house as Draco grabbed Lucifer's hand. The boy behind them carried on screaming, as he hid back under the covers. Draco stood looking at the child, the same age as himself. He felt the tugging on his hand as Lucifer pulled him out of the room. Draco accidentally trod on a drawing as he fled the room. He looked down at it. The father and mother surrounding the smiling boy in a blue top that was roughly coloured. With a sad glint Draco turned and yelled to the boy, "I wish I was you." Before finally running back down the hall.  
Before the two reached the staircase Lucifer heard the footsteps of a man running up the stairs. He stopped Draco with a solid arm and yanked him in the opposite direction. Reaching the end of the hallway, Lucifer opened the door and rushed inside with Draco. It was a bathroom, and thankfully the door had a lock. Draco locked the door whilst Lucifer burst the glass apart, it shattered outwardly. He looked outside and smirked as he spotted a drain close to the window that ended at the ground. He then turned to Draco who was smiling at his locked door, "No offence Draco, but that won't keep these guys out." Then he grabbed Draco as a loud banging sounded down the corridor. The sound of doors blasting apart. Draco yelped as he was hung from the shattered window. "Grab the pipe and shimmy down." Lucifer instructed as Draco grasped the pipe.  
As Draco clambered down slowly, his feet resting on the brick wall, Lucifer stood in the bathroom his body in a Duelling stance. Facing the door with a shield drawn. He heard Draco yell, "I'm down," as the sound of wood smashing drew closer. Realising he was outnumbered Lucifer ran to the window. As he looked across the street he spotted the sign: orphanage, on a tattered fence. He called down to Draco, his had pointing to the orphanage. "Run, to that house Draco. I'll find you when I'm out."  
Draco nodded to Lucifer as he hung from the window. He fled soon after, his wand in hand as he crossed the dirty muggle garden. He was just about to reach the end of the garden when a sharp green flash flickered behind him. As he turned the unmistakable thud of Lucifer's corpse hitting the ground sounded. He turned as a man with hazel eyes and scruffy hair met his gaze. Draco fearing his life turned and was lost around the corner.  
Draco ran. Pocketing his wand and stumbling over the picket fence. He reached the pavement starring at the building in front of him. An orphanage. He wondered as he crossed the road. A high pitch beep like a fog horn, sounded and a loud screeching followed. A muggle car swerved out of his way. "Move." Yelled the muggle inside the car as Draco rushed out of its way.  
"Bastard," Draco muttered as he fell onto the pavement directly by Wools Orphanage. He looked at the disgraceful condition of the children's shelter and snarled. Before the orphanage sat a park. Draco walked through it ignoring the rabid muggles playing on the swing set. And the teenagers holding paint cans threateningly as a Draco walked past.  
Behind the park stood a picket fence that was obviously the boundary around Wools orphanage. The orphanage was in hideous condition, and Draco couldn't imagin staying for more than a few hours. As he reluctantly approached the front door he rose his hand to knock.

AAA

Draco had been waiting knocking again and again until finally a brutal looking man opened the door. He reminded Draco of a Death Eater named Crabb; he was large with muscle obvious on his arms, his shirt was grimy and grey. He flared his nostrils and grabbed Draco by the scruff of his cloak before Draco could introduce himself.  
Draco was petrified. As the man told him to stay near the door and walked off, the sound of Lucifer hitting the floor began to ring in his ears.  
Draco grabbed his ears with his hands. Forcefully registering where he was. An orphanage: old coats and shoes scattered around him, umbrellas black a striped, polished floors stained and dented. Draco unintentionally began to shake. He wanted his mother's shoulder to cry into. He wanted Lebenth to tell him it was fine. Draco rubbed his eyes at the thought. It wasn't fine. If I had killed the kid maybe Lucifer wouldn't have died. Maybe the Aurors would have done something different and left us alone.  
Thought Draco as a hand appeared on his shoulder. The man was back, this time a old woman was with him. She was wearing a black cloak with a large white rimmed hood. She gave him a soft saddened smile.  
"Come on, dear. We'll find you a room and you can tell us your troubles in the morning." The lady said, Draco nodded. He tried to muster the venom so he could yell at the insolent muggle but only a mumbled, "Thank you," escaped his mouth. A hand gently pushed him across the hall and up a wide staircase. Draco was too focused on Lucifer's death to concentrate on where he was.  
The lady and Draco stopped when the two reached a old door, "There's a little boy called Draven, about your age you can share a room with him." The muggle explained as she tapped on the door. Draco looked up at the lady with curiosity, "Draven?" He asked as the lady nodded. Draco looked at the door, it couldn't be could it? He wondered as he thought of the cousin he never knew.  
"Strange name isn't it?" Said the lady as Draco sighed, it was probably just some useless muggle he thought coldly. He regarded the lady with a venomous glare, "Not particularly." He replied in a harsh tone. The lady flinched at the tone. The lady pointed to the door, "This is Draven's room. Draven are you in there, sweetheart?" She said tapping at the frame. Draco felt a light wind behind him and he turned in a motion that shocked the lady.  
Draco was face to face with a pale boy who had half his face covered with long strands of black hair. Draco raised his eyebrows as the boy spoke in a unnaturally mature voice, "Of course."  
"Draven you gave me a fright," The lady said as she ruffled his hair, accidentally uncovering his face. Draco took a startled intake of breath. In a moment he had seen two emerald eyes burning with hatred and surrounded by the silhouette of bruised fists. Above them blood matted into his fringe.  
"Sorry," the boy replied. He moved his hair in front of his face again. He tilted his head, peering at Draco with curiosity but he remained silent.  
"This is our newest boy, he'll be staying with you for a while, I can bring another mattress up latter," The lady said as she settled her hands on Draco's shoulders.  
"Hello, I don't believe we've met, I'm Draven." The boy said with a false smile, his hand raised to shake. The lady was convinced but Draco once again raised his eyebrows. The boy was strange. "Pleasure, I'm sure," Draco said as he placed his hands firmly on his sides. The boy twisted his hand and fought the pressure to snarl.  
"Well I leave you to get settled in." The lady said to Draco as she left. Draco for a long moment he stared at the boy who had risen his face and pulled the strands of hair behind his ears.  
Draco kept eye contact with the boy for a least a minute. Blue burning into green. Until the boy fell to the floor grasping his right ankle. Draco didn't mask the innocent concern that passed over his face. He after consideration stuck his hand out to the boy, Draven. The boy looked up at him, tears blinding his vision as he spat, "You're blocking my door." Draco paced to the left, and watched with pity as the boy crawled into the room. Dragging his ankle. The air reeked of humiliation and Draco found, despite his upbringing, he couldn't muster a snigger or sarcastic comment. His father, uncle and grandfather would have surely been splitting with laughter at the boys pain but Draco found his neglected care and wounded figure awfully familiar. He was reminded of himself, beneath the boys dark hair and intimidating emerald orbs. Draco followed and shut the door behind him. He watched from the doorway as Draven weakly lifted himself onto a singular bed in the room and sighed in relief. Draco peered over the near empty room and grimaced at the state of it. "I don't plan in talking to you," Draco stated with dominance as he caught Draven looking at him. Draven sent him a curious glare and then picked up "That's fine, I'm just going to ignore you anyway," Draven stated in an equally dominate tone. Draco scowled as he sat on the floor after a few moments of glaring at Draven's dirty shirt on the only chair.

Draven felt Blackwater stir beneath his covers and ushered him to be silent. Thankfully the snake understood the gesture of finger to lips. Draven flattened his hair over his eyes so his discrete glares at the boy went unnoticed. He was undoubtedly one of the wizards; the blonde hair was too white to belong to anyone else. His clothes obviously didn't belong to un-magical people and his manner of speech was to mature for his age, meaning he was not like the other children Draven new. But, the question was, what was he doing here? Did his father abandon him? Did he know anything about that green light that had flashed across the street? Draven fought the urge to ask him. The boy now looked so vulnerable and alone in the corner that Draven was reminded of his younger self, a lost boy. A tear glistened in the boy's eye but he furiously blinked it away.  
Suddenly the sound of police sirens sounded on the road. Draven leapt to his window and watched as four ambulances and three police cars parked outside the house that Draven had watched the boy enter a hour previous. He watched the masses of officers flood into the house. After a few moments the paramedics also rushed inside. A crowd of people where now watching from the park and neighbouring houses.  
Draven suddenly flinched as a small black bag in the figure of a boy was removed from the house. Daniel the neighbouring kid that normally played at the park, Draven thought. Two more bodies were removed moments later. His mother and father thought Draven curiously.  
Draven watched the people disperse and the ambulances drove away. The police remand, as they organised a traffic diversion. More police officers began to arrive and Draven, trying to mask his shock, stared at the boy on his floor.  
"There removing bodies from across the road." Draven stated. The boy ignored him. "I knew the boy briefly, he was an alright kid-" The boy stood, his eyes flooding with the unmistakable emotion of shear fear. Draven with a curious glance at the boy felt the vibrations of his feet through the wooden floor as he fled to the window. Draven let his breathing hastened. The boy was in that house, Draven confirmed as the memory of watching the boy enter the house flashed across his mind, and now the family was dead- "Daniel died?" Spoke a barely audible whisper. Draven nodded looking at the boy, his sentence confirmed his suspicions. He had known the boy, he had known his name, but he was only shocked about the boy's death meaning- Draven changed potions and sat nearer the door at the end of his bed. The boy in his room must have known about the deaths.

Hours passed and the sun dimmed behind the roof tops of the city before the boy spoke again. "Can I borrow a coat?" He asked as the light disappeared from the room. Draven nodded and began to remove his jacket. The boy raised his hands and shock them, "Not that one." He snapped as he walked over to the wardrobe. He tore the doors open and Draven watched his face fall. The wardrobe was empty.  
"Where are your clothes?" He stuttered as Draven fully removed his jacket and handed it to the boy. "I don't have any, the wardrobes for show. Here take this. I can use my covers." Draven insisted as the boy took the jacket. He placed his arms through the old sleeves and then smiled weakly in gratitude. "Thank you," He said before sitting back on the floor.  
"No problem." Draven replied. The boy squirmed on the floor, leaning against the wall. Drawing with his figure in the dust on the window frame. Draven watched as he wrote 'Draco'. Draven smiled, "Draco is a nice name, means dragon doesn't it?" he said as Draco glared at him before rubbing out the name with his sleeve. Draco looked up at Draven and sighed, "How old are you?" He asked but Draven could tell he didn't care.  
"Six, you?" Draven said. Sitting up in his bed. "Six as well," replied Draco wrapping his arms around his chest. He watched as the police began interviewing people on the streets. Draco looked extremely uncomfortable, he eyed Draven who was staring at him.  
"Don't worry they won't come in here." Draven told him. Draco glared, "I have nothing to hide." He lied but Draven just smirked, "I watched you know. I saw you enter the house-" Draco's eyes burned with hatred at Draven, "Shut up." He commanded, Draven smirked again, "I saw the other men, including your father-" "I said shut up!" Draco ordered as his hair began to turn a shade darker. Magic thought Draven with a grin. "I saw you. I could tell them!" Draven smirked as Draco's hair turned darker until it was almost black. "I saw the green flash-" Draco's hair turned ice blue suddenly as he dropped to the floor. He began to cry and Draven immediately lost his smirk.  
"Please, I don't want to listen." Draco whimpered as he buried his head in his hands.  
"What did I do?" Draven asked quietly, regretting his words. Why had he provoked the boy like that? He thought. Because you do magic when people provoke you, Draven told himself. Draven crawled from his bed. The pain in his foot almost gone. He crawled beside Draco.  
"Stupid muggle," Draco spat as Draven tried to place his arm around Draco. Draven smiled, "I'm not Stupid, and I'm not a muggle." He said as the boy mumbled into his hands, "You don't even know what a muggle is." Draven grinned in satisfaction, "Someone without magical abilities." He said as the boy looked up, "How?" Draco murmured.  
"I was only introduced to the concepts of the magical world a few days ago." Draco gave Draven a challenging stare, "you're a mudblood?" Draco sneered.  
"Tell me the definition and I'll answer the question." Draven stated. Not knowing if he should be offended or not. Draco, after a few seconds, replied, "Someone with poor heritage, as in muggle blood." Draco explained harshly as Draven sat with a hurt expression growing on his face.  
He carefully took his blue book and turned to the last page. "Is LeStrange a wizard's name?" He asked cautiously as Draco spun. Both boys for a passing moment sat in silence.

Draco felt his lungs collapse, his magic fall from his skin and his sudden thoughts collide into his mind. A arrange of emotions gliding through him. He settled on one strong emotion in particular: pride. This was fate. He would be the one to return Draven home. He would make his father proud. Finally Draco sighed causing Draven to send him an odd look.  
Draco smirked; Draven sent him a cautious glare. "The LeStrange house is a Pureblood house in magical Britain. They originated from Spain. The family is third richest in the world-" Draven was intoxicated as Draco spoke. He sputtered, tried to speak and choked on his own words. After a while Draven stopped, smiled and gestured Draco to continue speaking. Draco smiled and carried on, "The current head of the House of LeStrange and his wife are my aunt and uncle-" Draco paused wondering how to tell him. "Yes?" Draven urged Draco. Draco sent him a sad smile, "Their only son and heir was cradle robbed at one years old. He was taken to the Potters house and then when my other uncle went to steal him back, he had already been taken." Draven was slowly connecting Draco's explanation in his mind. He turned to face him with an unconvinced glare, he scuttled backwards and Draco sighed. "I wouldn't believe me either, but you have to admit it explains what happened to you, doesn't it?" Draco said pushing the subject. Draven snarled, "I wouldn't know, as I was one when this supposedly happened." Draco sighed again, "Please I know you don't believe me but when my father comes to get me-" Draco was abruptly cut off. "What makes you think he will come. He never came for me-" Draco, tears cascading down his cheek, stood and yelled. "We lost you. Don't you dare blame any of our family they have spent every second of every day looking for you. Lucifer died a few hours ago in a raid we went on whilst looking for you. And by sheer luck I've found you, by sheer luck. No other reason you should be grateful-" Draven's face softened but his voice stayed harsh.  
"Look, no offence but I'm an orphan. And you're telling me I have not only a family but a rich, pure-blooded wizarding family. And also that they've been looking for me, all these years. I've had no one for most my life, do you know how that feels?" Draven said, towards the end of his statement he hated how vulnerable he sounded. Draco fought the urge to say no like he usually would if he was asked a personal question. But this was his cousin, he wanted their friendship to grow and to do that he had to be honest, "Yes, not to your standard. I was raised by maids and my cousin, Lebenth. I shared dinners with my mother and father but apart from that silent half an hour I couldn't see them. When I was old enough for school I saw my tutor and his son, Thomas. My father was so distant I thought he was a business manager sorting out my mother's affairs until Lebenth told me different. I might not have lived in an orphanage but I can grantee it was emotionally just as bad." Draco explained as salt dried on his face. Draven was speeches. The boy that he had just met was acting more like a friend than anyone had ever done before. Draven smiled and for the first time in a very long time the smile reached his eyes.  
"I believe you now-" Draven said truthfully, "-cousin." Draco grinned, "I know this will take some time, but I've found you and I'm not letting you go again." Draco promised. Draven couldn't stop smiling.  
Draven was so overwhelmed with the idea of a family that he forgot his injuries. But suddenly they all came crashing back. He yelped and gripped his bleeding eye and broken foot. Draco fled towards him. He winced when he saw the bruises covering the other boy. The blood made Draco gag.  
"What happened to you?" Draco managed to ask as Draven looked up at him. Hatred burned across the green. "I was beaten up," Draven answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Draco flinched, "By whom?" He questioned again as Draven scraped the blood off his leg with his blunt nails. "An older boy-" Draven began as Draco gaped, "A muggle boy did this?" Draven sent a cold glare at Draco. "Yes," He answered abruptly. Why was Draco even asking about this? What did he care?  
"What about you're magic?" Draco asked again. Draven snarled. "It only happens occasionally, when I'm angry, okay. Why do you even care?" Draco saw an impassive façade appear on hid cousins face. Sheltering his emotions. A trick he probably learnt long ago.  
"I care because your family. Any way what type of magic can you do?" Draco questioned, Draven felt relieved at the change of topic. He thought for a moment then answered.  
"Appear and disappear, get into people's heads, make stuff change position and shape-" He watched as Draco nodded then say, "Apperation, Legmacy and transfiguration, I'm not surprised the Black family your mother's side is known for Legmacy whilst uncle Rodolphus was always brilliant at transfiguration." Draven grinned gleefully at the idea he could do the type of magic his family could. "Rodolphus?" Draven questioned, repeating the name felt familiar in his mouth.  
"Yes, your father-" Draco said with a nod. Draven smiled, Rodolphus diverged from a word meaning, "Famous Wolf" in Latin. Draven imagined his father with wild wolf like hair, similar to his own. With the same bright eyes, but unlike Draven he would be strong and loyal and brave, but not foolish.  
"What about my mother's name?" Draven asked, a picture of his father dancing in his mind.  
"Aunt Bellatrix, or Bella for short," Draco answered; he saw a sad glint on his cousins face. Draven smiled and pointed to a blue book on the bed that he had been reading earlier. Draco, without acknowledging the cover, reached over and handed it to Draven.  
"Like this?" Draven asked, turning to the last page. Draco looked at the words shock apparent on his face. "Yes." He said shakily. Draven gave him a curious smile, "What is it?" He asked. Draco looked blankly down at the page. "Whoever left you with this called you Draven." Draven began to laugh awkwardly.  
"And that's my name isn't it?" Draco gave him a confused, pallid stare, as though he was looking through him in misperception. "Only our close friends new your name, when you were kidnapped your name was changed to Harry Potter-" Draven flinched at a sudden memory:

_A man with a twinkle in his eyes speaking to a lady with fiery hair, "Do not love him Lily. This boy, Harry Potter, needs nothing. Nothing at all."  
_

AAA

Grace Weasley was sat in the corner of the Potters living room. Deep red wallpaper with flora patterns circled the room. Gold candles hovered around dark furnishings. A blazing fire lent against the centre wall, mangling the pine wood with orange claws. In the opposite corner of the room sat a table lined with spring flowers and nibbles. Under the table a mound of presents sat. The large rooms space had been eaten by the figures of twelve adults and fifteen children.  
The Potters had welcomed most their close friends into their home for Walpurgisnacht. "Dad, come on lets open them!" yelled the eager Christopher Potter, the boy who lived. Grace stared at him, he was a skinny boy, thanks to hours spent playing Quiditch. He had a mop of dark red hair which clashed with his hazel eyes, rimmed with gold glasses. Practically every present was labelled with Christopher's name. Everyone felt sorry for him because he had to defeat the Dark Lord. For the worlds 'chosen boy' Grace thought he was far too immature.  
Chris had only shown a few signs of accidental magic; his first sign was turning James Potter's hair green, much to the laughter of Remus Lupin. Chris always boasted about how he got rid of Voldemort, but Grace simply didn't care. Grace would rather read books then listen to the 'boy who lived'.  
"Dad, Please." Chris begged, but James didn't budge. "Not yet, Prongslet," said James Potter as he ruffled his brown hair and through a goofy grin at his wife Lily. Suddenly the fire place burned green and Albus Dumbledore walked through. His eyes twinkling with Christmas cheer. "Granddad, can we open the presents, please!" Christopher leapt into the arms of the old man, who was wearing an elegant red and gold cloak. Grace smirked he looked like the muggle Saint Nicolas. She smiled shyly when Sirius Black the best friend of James said, "Morning Santa," as Albus walked in. A small nod of Dumbledore's head sent Christopher charging towards the presents. "Ron," he called handing a parcel to Graces brother. "Holly," a small box was thrown towards Holly.  
Christopher carried on for a good ten minutes until everyone had a pile of at least thirty presents around them, ready to open. Everyone except Grace, who had a pile of three.  
"Okay, go!" Yelled Frank Longbottom. Wrapping paper was thrown into the air, covering the floor. A sudden chorus of "Thank you," and "Brilliant," echoed through the room. Grace sat still looking at the others as they opened their gifts. Molly was admiring a gold chain she had been given as Amanda was strapping a dragon leather wrist watch to her brother in laws wrist. James and Remus were grinning as they watched their sons open a large bag on Zonkos new market products: Fake wands, Stink bombs, and Exploding Bubbles. Christopher had the biggest pile by far but Ron and Tyler had close seconds. Ron was already feasting on a mound of Honey Dukes sweets his pale face covered in toffee. Lily was squealing as she gave Holly her new little dresses and Alice was doing the same with Ginny. Bill was grinning at his new broom from his uncles; he turned to see what his sister had been given. In a second he saw that the wrapping paper on her presents wasn't the paper their mum had used.  
"Hey, doesn't Grace get anything from us mum?" said Bill loudly, as he glanced over to his sister. Her pile of two gifts made him sad. "Molly, did you get Grace anything?" Asked the quite voice of Remus Lupin, most the adults were staring at Molly or Grace. Molly shock her head solemnly, "It's been a hard year with the bills for the flu network rising. I couldn't manage-" Molly cried softly as the adults sent pitying glances at the struggling family. Amanda and Lily sent sympathising glances at her. "If there's anything we can do Molly. Honestly we wouldn't mind-" Molly smiled, "Lily the bill for the flu this week, I might not manage." Lily looked at her husband, taking his hand, a flutter in his eyes, "We can do that can't we James?" James held back a sigh, he smiled falsely. "I don't mind, it's not as though I'm poor is it?" He joked as the adults laughed with him. Grace didn't miss the pure envy on the Weasley's faces. A cold dry emotion.  
James shared a look with his best mate Sirius; both men hated the Weasley family. In their eyes the youngest kids, Ron and Ginny, where spoilt brats. Arthur was a drunk, it was talk at work, and by the look his girl, Grace, and his twins, Fred and George, gave him James and Sirius wouldn't be surprised if he hit them. Sirius didn't believe that rubbish about the girl having a disease. James flinched as he thought about it. Hitting a kid was something that needed to stay a muggle thing. Wizards, at least when bought up properly, knew that the kids was precious and it sent a strain through his heart to realise that a good kid like Grace could be abused.

James smiled at the young girl as he spotted her looking at her presents.  
Grace looked down at her there presents. A small grin twitching at the corner of her mouth. She carefully picked up the first present. Turning the gold wrapping in her hand until she found a shiny red tag. She smiled and began to read the blocked writing: To Grace, Merry Christmas, and Love Uncle James.  
Grace glanced up at James and mouthed, "Thank you." James grinned and a subtle wink at her. Grace tore away the gold wrapping. Inside was a beautiful green scarf, a mixture of silver and gold cotton threaded through it, the colours looked bright and the material looked expensive. Grace began to unwrap the second present. 'Love Remus and Tyler,' was written on the red wrapping. She opened the present and inside sat a book. Thrilled, Grace began to read: An introduction to basic curses-  
"What is that?" Molly yelled at her. Grabbing the present from her hands as Remus and James shared a look of anger. "Molly I gave that to Grace." Remus growled as Sirius nodded hastily in agreement. James even stood up and held his hand out to the enraged mother. "The gift, please." He said hotly as Molly snarled. "The girl cannot have it, I'm sure my boy Ron would love the chance to read about-" Ron shared a look with Christopher and began to laugh at his mother's stupidity. Sirius stood up as well, "Molly, your boy doesn't want to read it. Give it back to Grace." Grace looked up in surprise when Sirius said her name. Sirius looked at the child and saw the same loneliness he had once seen in his own eyes:

_Sirius stood in his bathroom looking at his reflection. A thirteen year old boy with neat black hair and beautiful grey eyes stood in the mirror. He murmured a song of Happy Birthday to his child hood friend Lilius Malfoy, whose birthday, Lord Abraxas Malfoy forbid him to attend. For the sole reason that he befriended James Potter. Sirius didn't know what to do. He didn't ask to be sorted into Gryffindor. It was Dumbledore that reused the resorting not him. Sirius slammed his fist onto the sink in anger. Fuck, he thought as the pain seared through him. For Merlin's sake. It wasn't his fault, he wanted to be a Slytherin and spend time with his best friends Lilius, Lucius and Rodolphus… But each day at Hogwarts he felt himself changing… He had asked Dumbledore about it before the holidays and simple got the reply, "Don't worry my boy it's for the greater good." Sirius snarled, "I'm not good Dumbledore and whatever you do, whoever I meet, even if I turn a blood traitor.. I will never deep down be good."_

Albus Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a small golden box. "Here Grace, I picked this out for you yesterday," lied Dumbledore smoothly. Grace cautiously took the tiny golden box. Molly and Remus watched as she unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small snitch. The golden ball flow across the room like a Christmas decoration. "Thanks" Grace said to Dumbledore. The old man smiled softly, "your welcome Grace."  
Grace and the twin where able to eat as much as they wanted the Potter's house. The adults sat at one table whilst the children sat on the carpet near the fire place. Grace had piled her plate with food: Turkey, cranberry sauce, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, gravy, ham, and Yorkshire puddings. The twins had filled theory plates even more then joined each other in a corner, looking at their new books. They had been given 'The tricks to Master Pranks,' and 'Got an annoying sister?' both books where from Mr Potter and about what the boys loved most, mischief. The only other presents the boys were given was a Weasley's jumper each, a pair of new beater clubs from Fabian and Gideon, and a muggle football from Remus Lupin, that Ron was eyeing up.  
Grace watched the snitch chase the flying decorations across the room with a small smile. She was sat; warm, near the fire, her back up against the heat. She finished her meal, quickly, than ran back to the kitchen to get some more. As she entered the pristine room, with white furnishing and marble surfaces, she crept over to Mr Potter to ask for some more. He grinned and grabbed her plate. Then she was lifted into his lap, unlike Mr Weasley's posture, Mr Potters was friendly. Grace watched as he handed her a small plate of ham and apple sauce, "I used to love that when I was a kid," Grace giggled and began to eat. The eyes of the adults stared at James.  
"Jamie honey, but the brat down. Play with your son instead, okay?" Lilly whispered to her husband in an order. James was shocked, as his wife spoke to him in such a cold tone about the kid, he shook his head, "Lily-flower, don't call the kid a brat. She's a good kid, plus Chris is already playing." The adults remained still; Dumbledore, Mrs Weasley and Mr Weasley were staring at James wearing odd expressions on their faces. Dumbledore spoke next, "Let James play with the child for a while. I'm sure nothing bad will happen." He said cheerfully, the Weasley's looked at him although he had gone mad, as he stood up, "Excuse me, Lily your bathroom is the third door on the right?" He asked lily who smiled lovingly at him, "That's right, Albus." She replied as Dumbledore walked off down the hall. Grace had ignored the adult's conversation, she was to indulged in the plate of food. A few minutes of silence passed before Remus Lupin said, "You must be proud, having a daughter that now how to eat with her knife in the right hand. My Tyler still struggles," he smiled at Grace whose mouth twitched at the corners, she had known who to eat nicely for ages. Molly couldn't get redder, "Erh, well she's horrid at home, Remus honestly. It's my Ron who is the real gentleman with his food-" Molly boasted but Fabian began to laugh, "My nephews nothing of the sort, eats like the foods running away, and who can blame him. He has five older brothers trying to get more of your cooking all the time, Molls." The adults all began to laugh and Molly turned plum with embarrassment. Grace looked up from her plate as she heard the laughter but she was met with the cold glare of her father. She shivered, knowing that she had stolen the attention away from them and began to struggle away from James. James grabbed her by the waist, "I wish I had a kid like this, honestly best behaved kid ever." He said with a grin as Grace looked up at him hopefully, did he really mean that? Suddenly the door burst open and the children ran in, food on their faces and hands. Yelling at their parents for more. The noise stopped when Chris ran up to his father and saw Grace.  
"Dad, why are you hugging her?" he spat with childish anger. James ruffled his sons hair, "aww, mate I'm just playing with her-" This made Chris boil. "WHY AREN'T YOU PLAYING WITH ME?" he yelled as he gripped Graces dress and tugged on it until she lost her balance. Grace fell onto the hard stone floor. Her elbows and knees were bleeding and there was a nasty cut on her forehead, where she had hit the table edge. She sat up and walked over to her mother. But Molly ran past her. Chris had lost his footing when Grace fell and had landed on his bum behind her.. He had burst into tears as James, with a guilty face, had run to pick him up. The mothers had all, also, ran to comfort the boy who lived. Grace was left bleeding standing in the middle of the room. Eyes blinded by tears of pain, she felt two hands grip her waist and pull her into a hug. The hands carried her outside. And removed the tears from her eyes with a red sleeve. It was Dumbledore. Grace looked into his twinkling eyes and began to struggle.

The man looked as angry as her father did. He put her down in the front step, and then he perched in front of her. "Do you know who I am, girl?" Dumbledore hissed through his teeth. Grace nodded fearfully, "Dumbledore, you're on Ron's cards-" Grace replied carefully, the man's thin fingers twisted around her neck. "And you owe me your life, I saved you girl. So do not disobey your parents. Do not take attention away from Christopher, Ron or any of the other light children. You are worthless-" Dumbledore rambled on, insulting her the same way her father did.

Then something hit Grace- "You said you saved me? From who?" She asked stumbling in fear. Dumbledore kicked the girl across the chest. He smiled cruelly. "This scene reminds me of a day not long ago. Your father was a horrid man just like you, but with the help of my powers and some obedience charms I managed to change him, for the greater well, as I have true to change you. But both of you disobeyed and wound up on the floor in front of me." Grace looked up her face stinging from the snow. Her body shaking from fear and the cold as she whispered, "Mr Weas-" She began thinking the elder man meant him. Dumbledore gave a low hissing laugh, "You really think that squib would give birth to something like you?" Grace was scared to answer. "The child destined to kill me? Well you've lived to your purpose; in fact the Weasley's adoption of you has given them permission to have your vault at Gringotts. Molly was pleased with the gold-" Grace sat up. "She stole-" Grace began venomously, as she suddenly was opened to the truth. She was relieved and horrified. "You're as good as dead child; Molly won't take you back now. You have no family. Little snake." Grace bit back tears as she trembled and began to rush away from the man. Dumbledore laughed again, "Come back and I'll kill you, Alexandra Riddle," She ran as fast as her feet could carry her.  
A soft layer of snow covered the ground and cushioned her each time she tripped. The sun shone, like a light bulb, high in the brisk sky. Grace breathed and a cloud of white trailed past her face. She fled to the gate her feet crunching in the snow and left. She felt the wards hover around her for a second before vanishing. She turned around expecting to see the huge Godrics hollow, but only a white field remand. Grace began to track down the road. In the muggle village all the shops were decorated by flimsy daffodils and bunnies. A few wobbly bunches of flowers hung in the windows and a large Christmas tree sat in the square. Grace sunk onto a bench and embraced the chill of Christmas morning. Her heart was frozen from the mornings events_. I'm not a Weasley,_ she kept repeating in her mind. Grace stood up and starred at the road she had just walked down; her footsteps were glistening in the snow. Suddenly a ball hit her head. The little golden snitch had followed her. "Leave me alone." Hissed Grace as she hit the snitch away, it flow straight back. Grace sighed in defeat.  
She after catching her breath began to run again. She lost one shoe in the snow of a field as she went out of the town and into a large graveyard. Hidden beneath the large stone Grace fell asleep her bones aching from the cold.

**Hello! Please answer these questions in the comments when you review:**

**Who do you guys want to save Draven and Draco?**

**Who do you want to find Grace?**

**And do you want the snitch to keep following Grace? **

**Thanks!**


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